Fade Away
by CelticWolfman
Summary: Semi-sequel AU to my "Three Wise Men" story. What happens if Mac wants more that night he showed up at her apartment? What happens to JAG? Could Harm live through it again? Could he move on? Would fate even let him? Mac/Other, might be Mac/Harm later?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in! I was supposed to be in fanfic retirement, having hung up my copies of JAG on DVD and put my word processor on perpetual idle. This fic has long been in the back of my memory and it was prompted by a couple of friend Private Messages sent to me. Two things:

This story picks up, verbatim, from the end of the end of Chapter 15 of my story "Three Wise Men", if you want to understand the start point, new character or anything eles. This is obviously an A/U from where that story went.

While this story, as will be evident from the end of this chapter, starts out as a Mac/Other, that doesn't mean that this story will necessarily end this way, fact is, at this point I don't even know how it will end.

0419 ZULU

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN, DC

Nate hesitantly knocked on the door. He knew that he had been a little quick and shallow with his answers on the show earlier and that he might have some explaining to do, especially with Mac. Mac came to the door and opened it only a crack.

"Hi." She said timidly.

"Hey." He started. "Can I come in?"

"Why do you want to?" Mac asked, still a little weary.

"Perchance to explain?" Nate offered.

"What's there to explain. You stated your position pretty simply tonight on the show." Mac replied as she let him into the apartment.

"You told me not to assume, that's exactly what I did." Nate began his explanation.

"So you made a unilateral decision about the status of our relationship because I told you _not_ to assume?" Mac's prosecutorial program was working on overdrive.

"Mac, I just stated a truth that we've both been shying away from. Neither of us wants to admit it, that's all. We both know that there can never be anything romantic between us because I'm not the one you belong with." Nate answered.

"After everything that's happened between me and Harm this year, how can you be so sure that we belong together?" Mac packed a lot of force and emotion into her question.

"Because you can't be sure that you don't. See if you two didn't belong together, there would be no doubt in your mind as to that effect. But that doubt still exists, reasonable doubt, Mac, you're a lawyer, you know what that means." Nate coached, slipping into a legalese metaphor.

"That we're lucky I'm the lawyer and you're not." Mac rebutted with a slowly developing smile. "It may be true that once upon a time, Harm and I meant something to one another. It may be true that it could have been something profound. But he had his chance and I'm not sure that it's fair to myself to sit around waiting for him to make up his mind." Mac shook her head. "I won't lie to you. I won't deny that once upon a time, I loved Harmon Rabb and that I'll always care for him very deeply, I've shared too much with him not to. I think I deserve a chance to move on."

"Mac, I'd be the wrong guy for you." Nate shook his head. "I'm a politician, you'd live your life under a microscope, schmooze parties at embassies, at the White House. Profiles on 60 Minutes, Dateline, Oprah. I've gotten to know you well enough to know you're a private person that would hate this life."

"Stop pushing me away." Mac asserted herself. "I'm a big girl, I can make decisions for myself. I know what I'd be getting into. I did see you on Larry King tonight, I know that if we were to become involved in a relationship, I'd be in a spotlight. I'm tough, I can take that."

"The question is do you want that?" Nate leaned against a wall in her living room.

"I'v been thinking about that." Mac's eyes shifted from the sport of the carpet where she had been focusing up to Nate's eyes. "It's not about wanting the spotlight, it's about whether I want you more than I want to stay out of the spotlight. Relationships don't start with protestations of love, they build up to that. When we're together, you make me feel good, you make me happy and that's something worth holding on to."

"There's a lot I want to say that I have no right to say. I don't want to give into my baser instincts and ask these questions." He took her hands in his. "I didn't want to feel anything for you because I knew that I'd want to ask questions about Harm that shouldn't have anything to do with you and me. So, how do I deal with this insecurity so that it doesn't eat at me like some carnivorous insect?"

"You know our history, you know that we never had a relationship." Mac welcomed him into her living room and they sat on the couch.

"I know that, I'd never question your honesty with me." He looked so ashamed of himself. He didn't like appearing insecure. "I just know that you're really ready to move past Harm. If you can tell me that you are, and really mean it. Then I'll take you at your word, no questions asked ever again."

Mac bit her lower lip. It wasn't an unreasonable request but she could tell it killed him to ask it of her. She could tell that he wanted to be a stronger man on the inside, that he wanted to be more secure, that he wanted not to care. She put a hand to his cheek. "I can't tell you that for sure right now." She said, staring down at the couch between them. "But if this starts going somewhere serious, I won't leave you without an answer. You'll never have to question my sincerity."

"I never would." He replied softly.

"Then why were you so sure that we really didn't have a future when you were on Larry King earlier?" Mac wanted to confront the one thing that was nagging at her.

"Because whatever was between us, just didn't really seem to be forced to that next step. It seemed fated that we simply be friends." He tried feverishly not to let his eyes meet hers.

"Have you thought about dating me?" Mac pressed a little.

"Many, many times." He nodded with his eyes closed.

"I've been single this whole time, we've done date-like things, why didn't you just go for it?" She asked, like she didn't know the answer.

"Old Guys Code, if you've got a friend and he's interested in or used to date a woman that you're interested in, you've got to get his permission before you can ask her out." Nate shook his head. "It may be a little chauvinistic, but there are less fights between the guys who follow that code."

"It also removes my ability to make decisions for myself from the equation." Mac grew a little weary of his explanation.

"The system's not perfect. I'll admit to that. But I'm not sure you'd like a fist-fight between me and Harm that much more." Nate tried to explain. "There's something very special about you, Sarah, I knew that from the first time you showed up at my front door. I haven't been able to put my finger on it yet, but I'd like to try."

"And in the future, now making decisions regarding me without consulting me first, right?" Mac took on a cute kind of lecturing posture.

"What if I wanted to surprise you with a gift or a trip or something like that somewhere down the line?" Nate sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

"I'm not that fond of surprises." Mac shook her head a little bit. "But if they're not too frequent, and they're kind of romantic, I guess it would be foolish for me to bite your head off about them." She leaned in and placed a light kiss on his lips.

"I just want to set one ground rule." Nate hung his head. "No sex until we're both certain that everything's on solid footing. I don't want us using it as a substitute for a legitimate emotional connection. If something's not there, there's no use trying to manufacture it."

"You're a good guy." She touched his cheek again. She didn't want to admit that she'd had the same worries about his relationship with Peach that he'd had about hers with Harm. She knew that he'd come close to cheating on his wife all those many years ago and she had assumed that to one degree or another, there had been some alienation of affection at the end of his marriage as Peach began to get the kind of attention that most men reserve for their significant others. His question for her was could ever be him? For her, the question was not could it be her, she assumed that on some level he had loved every woman he'd ever been with, even only emotionally. She wanted to know could it be only her? Or would she always feel that his emotions toward her would be a little hollow?

She longed for that simple kind of love that she'd never gotten. She wanted it not as an escape from her life as she'd had it in high school with Chris. She wanted it simple, uncomplicated maybe not easy to accomplish but at least easy to understand. With John, with Dalton, with Mic, with Harm there was always something there to make it complicated, something to make it hazy. She wanted to be able to just date, she wanted to be able to giggle and laugh, cry at sad movies and curl up under a blanket on cold nights. There was no reason that she couldn't with Nathan. They'd both gotten married young, they'd both matured considerably since. They were both able to put sins in the past, bury them and move on.

"Got an idea for our first date?" She questioned allowing the slightest bit of excitement to enter her voice.

"In fact I do, I was planning for us to attend this as friends, but now there's another motive." He reached into his jacket and produced a couple tickets. "Springsteen, Friday night, MCI Center."

"You got Springsteen tickets?" Mac snatched them out of his hands. "Box seats? You can't do box seats at a Boss concert."

"I could have gotten a couple jailbaiters, but Secret Service killed that idea pretty quick." He smiled. That was when the realization really sank in for Mac. Dating a guy who was the interim Secretary of State would have its drawbacks. There would be no anonymity in a crowd. No ability to be invisible in plain sight. While cabinet secretaries aren't usually assassination targets, it would still mean things like box seats at a concert or football game instead of mosh pits and 50 yard lines. "You're lucky I'm in court this week, who would you have taken had I been forced into the field on an investigation?"

"I don't know, probably just would have passed them on down the chain at the Truman building, let some Assistant Secretary take his wife." Nate finally seemed to relax on the couch. "I always love seeing the Boss in person. I remember back at Penn State, one night me and some of my frat brothers went to the Vet and saw him during the Born in the USA tour. Then there was the reunion tour with the E Street Band back in '99 when I went to see him up in New York at Madison Square Garden. It's never the same show."

"I've always wanted to go to a show, I just never got the chance. When I was younger, there wasn't the cash to do it and I just haven't gotten around to it in the last few years." Mac stared down at the tickets. "I'm gonna have to do my best to dress for this aren't I?"

"Nah, I've got the same leather jacket and blue jeans I wore to my first Springsteen concert. In high school, I thought he was the coolest guy on the planet so I did my best to look like I just stepped off the cover of _Born to Run_." He chuckled and so did she. She'd seen a lot of sides of him. There was the business suit, the Marine uniform, the prodigal son and now the adolescent rebel. She could almost see those brooding eyes and scraggly dark hair, well passed the length his Marine officer father likely deemed acceptable, the leather jacket pulled tight over his broad shoulders and an old faded pair of Levis.

"Did you have a bike?" She inquired, slightly aroused by this new picture.

"Of course, classic Harley that me and my brother fixed up." He showed her the back of his left hand. "Got that scar fixing the driveshaft." Oh God, Mac thought, and he's a damn gearhead. She was feeling her inner teenager come out. "Bled all over the driveway, had to have twenty stitches put into my hand." She knew exactly what kind of guy he'd been in high school. He probably hung around with a bunch of guys that he hid his intelligence from in order to fit in. The Corps likely did build a man out of a guy that had a rail thin frame and no athletic form. She put her fingers into his chest and gave him a push back flat on to the couch. She pinned him down and captured him quickly with a kiss.

She wanted to bring out a little of that high school boy. She imagined that he was happier then. Before his father had turned him into the Marine he wasn't sure he'd ever wanted to be. Before Princeton had turned him into a diplomat and the Corps had turned him into a sniper. His brain was always where his life was. But she felt that his soul would likely still rather be lying on a garage floor under an engine while _The Promised Land_ or _Prove it All Night_ played in the background. She wanted to see one of his genuine smiles. She was sure she never had. She wanted to see him finally have fun. She kissed him again, this time feeling his big hands open up on her back and gently press her against him. After a few seconds, she pulled her face away from his with a smile. "Not bad, Marine."

"I try." He said with a sense of false modesty. "But I'd better get out of here. Early day tomorrow, 0600 for some physical therapy at Bethesda to heal the knee and then into the office by 0815."

"How's the ACL rehabilitating?" Mac looked down at the knee that had suffered such damage that night outside the movie theatre.

"Little slower than I'd like. I'm gonna have to be cleared by the doctors at Bethesda before they'll let me put any more reserve hours in." Nate squared himself away as he leaned against her front door. "I've been shot before, so recovering from bullet wounds is nothing new."

"Drive home safe." She roped her arms around his neck, leaned up and gently brushed a kiss against his lips.

"I will." He replied with a smile.

1720 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac had been in court until 1110 and since had been shackled to her desk working on evidentiary motions in the Lopresti court martial. Her friendship with Harm had improved in leaps and bounds from where it had been earlier in the year. They weren't where they had been a few years back but they weren't as antagonistic as they had often been over the last few years either. Until the Three Wise Men offices were back up again next week, Harm was still TAD to JAG Headquarters. He was prosecuting Petty Officer Lopresti in front of Captain Sebring this week, which placed him in opposition to Mac.

"Hey Mac." Harm stood in the doorway. "Heard that you cooked Sturgis in court this morning, hope you're not planning on the same kind of luck against me this afternoon, Marine."

"Oh Harm, when have I ever needed luck to beat you in court?" Mac laughed lightly.

"Ouch, Colonel." He feigned being wounded. "What are you up to this weekend?"

"Concert on Friday night, not sure about the rest of the weekend." Mac's eyes returned to the papers on her desk. "You have something in mind?"

"Well yeah...what concert?" Harm's curiosity got the better of him.

"The Boss, Nate scored a pair of tickets and told me about it last night." She smiled.

"I didn't know you were a Springsteen fan, Mac. Then again I didn't know the Secretary was either, always struck me as more of an opera and Beethoven type." Harm laughed to himself. "You know Keeter and I drove up to the Roxy one night during the summer of 80 to see Bruce?"

"Nah, I don't think you ever told me that story." Mac shook her head.

"Oh yeah, it was right before our summer cruise after plebe year. We were out on the west coast and drove up the coast from La Jolla to LA. The Boss was a much younger man then though, but I guess I was too." Harm beamed one of those flyboy smiles at her. "Hey, if you guys wouldn't mind another friend in the group, I'd love to take in another show on E Street."

Mac suddenly got a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Normally, it wouldn't have been an unreasonable idea. Harm and Nate were friends of a sort, new friends, but friends. She and Harm were friends and as far as Harm knew, she and Nate were just friends. They were box seats, she knew that if she asked him to, Nate could easily get Harm into the concert. But she forced herself to draw the line. "Harm, it's not _that_ kind of concert." She responded shyly.

"What, is it like invitation only?" Harm looked puzzled.

"Kind of." Mac winced noticeably. At that moment Lieutenant Harriet Sims appeared in the doorway of Mac's office.

"Ma'am, those files you asked for on the Lopresti court martial." Harriet walked in and handed Mac the papers.

"Lieutenant Sims, have you heard anything about this invitation only Springsteen concert on Friday night?" Harm joked lightly, putting Harriet a little on the spot.

"It's not invitation only, sir." Harriet piped up. "I know Bud was trying to get us tickets but they were sold out months ago. Why did you think it was invitation only, sir?"

"Well, the Colonel is going with Secretary Ross and since I'm something of a Bruce fan and the Secretary's a friend of mine as well, I was hoping I could tag along for the night but the Colonel seems set against that." Harm knew how to cajole Mac after all these year and it really did seem like a good opportunity for a fun night with some friends.

"Maybe it's a date, sir." Harriet shrugged and slowly tried to extricate herself from the situation.

"You think so, Lieutenant?" Harm just laughed off the thought before turning his eyes toward Mac who was working hard to avoid his eyes and keep the redness out of her cheeks. "Is it, Mac?"

"Listen, Harm..." Mac tried to explain but Harm shrugged her off.

"I guess I understand what you meant by 'kind of' invitation only." He disguised his disappointment behind a self-deprecating laugh. "How...uh....how long have you two been..." He couldn't bring himself to use the verb.

"This is supposed to be the first one." Mac was honest, she wouldn't lie to him. She wouldn't play emotional games with him any more. "He dropped by the other night after Larry King and we had to talk about what he said. He felt I was owed an explanation. I had to face the fact that I didn't want him to just slip away. That I'd kick myself if I didn't at least try to see what was there."

"Well, he's better than Brumby." Harm joked, his posture becoming instantly defensive.

"Harm, for what it's worth, he brought up this thing about the guy code or something, he wasn't really comfortable with agreeing to this date until he'd talked to you first." Mac was trying to soften the blow. A part of her did still carry a torch for him. Only time would tell now if that torch could be extinguished. Mic couldn't do it because he wasn't the man Harm was and with everyday that became more and more obvious.

"The code only means something if you and I had dated, Mac." Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest. "We never did."

"I know, but there's a level of...I guess emotional complication at work here that goes beyond just that, Harm, at least cop to that." Mac got up from behind her desk. He nodded quickly. "He respects you, I know on some level it's eating at him that this has happened this way."

Harm's dispassionate answers surfaced again. "You'll do what you want, Mac, and I'll be happy for you as a friend." He was also glad that he was transferring back out of JAG ops at the end of the week. But he'd lived through Brumby and Lowne and he wasn't sure that his Pentagon office was far enough away from JAG ops for his liking. He would consider a transfer out to the Pacific for a few months. His mom would certainly welcome that little change. He'd been there before, he'd left JAG and yet he'd found himself right back here. When he'd gone to the Pentagon, he should have been able to get things together with Mac but almost a year on and that clearly hadn't happened.

He'd just have to war his way through to Friday. He didn't like the idea of leaving D.C., his friends were here, his godson was here, his apartment was here. He slipped into his old office, which was now his temporary office and he tucked in behind the desk. He'd done it all so far in his career, and this latest junket with the Three Wise Men project had given him experience with Naval Intelligence. Maybe he could put in for a billet somewhere out in the "Real Navy" as Tom Boone would have said.

Across the bullpen at JAG, a familiar form got off the elevator dressed in a suit, taking salutes and returning them in kind. He had a white Beltway Burget bag in hand and an exasperated look on his face. He stepped into the doorway of Mac's office and rapped on the door. Mac looked up and smiled . "JAG is a long way from the Truman building."

"Had to cross the river for a meeting with SECDEF at the Pentagon." He rolled his eyes. "Brought something over for you." He tossed her the Beltway Burger bag.

"Wow, normally it takes a while to train guys on the whole hamburger thing." She smiled and pulled her lunch out of the bag. "C'mere, you." She crooked a finger and waved him in closer. He blushed a little and slowly shuffled over to her. She roped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. She'd been a little distracted in court thinking about him this morning, but that hadn't stopped her from lighting up Sturgis. She'd been thinking about him periodically for the last hour or so as she had been working at her desk. He'd been in meetings for most of the morning. One with the National Security Advisor in his office at the White House and another with the SECDEF at the Pentagon. But during the travel time, he found his mind returning to thoughts of Mac.

"You have a fun morning?" He asked her, leaning up against the wall of her office. To her, it was obvious that he was either unsure of being here with her or else just uncomfortable in his surroundings.

"I kicked Sturgis Turner's six in court, which was pretty fun. But since court was dismissed I've been sitting here, working on evidentiary motions for an upcoming court martial." Mac unwrapped her hamburger.

"Yeah, this one I've read about." Nate nodded. "Part of my meeting this morning with SECDEF was about Petty Officer Lopresti. I don't know what he thought State could do about this case but I was briefed anyway. A female P.O. First class being accused of raping a male P.O. 3 on her gunner's crew? That's gonna grab some media attention."

"Can't talk about the case." Mac responded through a mouthful of hamburger.

"I know you can't." He shook his head. Mac swallowed her mouthful of hamburger and got up out of the chair. She walked over to him and lightly stroked his arm.

"You don't seem comfortable." She whispered lightly.

"I'm not comfortable." He looked dead serious. "I like being with you, spending time with you but something about this particular locale, it feels wrong." He shook his head and took her hand in his.

"What is it about JAG? Just tell me it's not about Harm." Her tone toughened.

"It's not, this is your workplace, you and I are professionals." He hung his head. "The person I am at work isn't the person I am with you. I enjoy who I am around you. I'm warmer, I laugh more, smile more, enjoy more. When I go to work, I have to be colder, more cerebral, more dispassionate. I have to protect that first person from the professional side. I've watched Washington and politics chew up and spit out the people who came here without a protective mask. It hardens them, it creeps into every open pore and fills every crevace. I can't let that happen to me with you."

She smiled fondly at him. He was giving her the way in. He was trying to show her that he could be open. "You won't." Rather than kiss him, she simply wrapped him in a tender embrace. "Listen, Harriet was in here talking about how Bud was trying to get tickets for the concert a few months back and he couldn't get anyway. And they never get out of the house, and to be honest, I kind of want to see Harriet giddy and moving to _Dancing in the Dark..."_

"Mac..." Nate used a weary tone.

"They're my friends, my _close_ friends, and it's important to me if we're going to date that they at least like you. Besides, a double date on our first outing should take some of that initial forced awkward pressure off." Mac explained very methodically.

Nate thought for a second. He really was hoping that his first date with Mac would be more private but he knew that her friends were important to her. So, it really wasn't that big a concession to make. "I can get two more box seats." He nodded and Mac smiled widely.

"You just got major points, you know that?" She tapped him playfully on the nose with her index finger. He brought his hands down to her hips and she leaned up and kissed him.

"Colonel, I..." The Admiral entered Mac's office and stopped when he saw his Chief of Staff kissing the interim Secretary of State. "I'm sorry, Colonel, Mr. Secretary, I should have knocked."

"Nonsense, A.J., this is your command. As my dad probably would have told me, there's not kissing in JAG Ops!" Nate's professional face slid back on almost seamlessly. Mac watched it with a kind of stunned silence. "Colonel, I realize the Lopresti court martial is in the thick but recent revelation being what they are for the evidence that has come Captain Rabb's way, it might be worth considering a plea."

"Advice appreciated, sir." Mac moved toward her desk. "But I'm working on my motions to exclude some of the evidence, sir."

"Very well, Colonel." The Admiral nodded knowingly. "Mr. Secretary, while you're here, I've got a call with the SECNAV in my office that you should probably sit in on." Nate nodded and followed AJ to his office with the door shutting behind them.

"There's no call, is there?" Nate stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What's up, AJ?"

"I realize, that as your sister's new boyfriend this may be nearing a line of decorum, but since you weren't here for most of the last two years, I feel the need to protect my staff." AJ exhaled hard. "You're holding the match to the fuse. It seems you're attracted to Colonel MacKenzie and that she is likewise inclined. That's fine, two people certainly have a right to that. But the following things will happen, you will date the Colonel, at the end of the week Captain Rabb will return to his assignment at the Pentagon."

"No, he won't." Nate interrupted. "The Three Wise Men program is being discontinued. Successful though it has been, it's also been wildly over budget. Congress has stopped it. Harm will either be re-assigned here at JAG or elsewhere in the Navy. As you're still his CO, I suppose it would fall to you to speak with him. Any duty station he wants, I'll pull every string I've got, throw every last pound of weight I've got around to make it happen for him."

"Mr. Secretary, if he opts to stay here, the Colonel's personal life will once again become the centre of the social energy of this office and not in a constructive way. I need this office to not go through that again." Admiral Chegwidden put his face in his palm.

"I understand, A.J." Nate nodded. "But there some things, even the Navy can't stop. I have the utmost respect for the Captain and Lord knows I was morally conflicted for months over even pursuing the Colonel. On some level, for some period of time, I'm not going to be comfortable around the Colonel romantically in part because I do have such abiding respect for the Captain. But what I come back to is, if I have a problem that needs to be worked through, I can do that while dating the Colonel, she may even help me with it if she feels so inclined. If I'm capable of making that leap, after only having exposure to the kind of person she is for a few months, how is it that the Captain was unable to after knowing her for six years?"

The Admiral thought for a second. He wasn't willing to cross certain lines of decorum, especially with someone who he was coming to respect who also happened to be higher on the Washington food chain than he was. Second, his argument was effective, even if it didn't change the Admiral's view of the situation. "Well, I'll inform the Captain that a new assignment will be headed his way to start next week."

"I'll see what I can scrounge up in terms of assignments that should serve to stimulate the Captain intellectually and advance his career." The Secretary of State got out of the chair and walked toward the door. "A.J, believe me when I say that my intent was not to disrupt your command."

"I understand, Mr. Secretary." The former SEAL nodded as the Secretary of State left his office.

1516 ZULU, FRIDAY

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

On this particular Friday morning, Harm felt like a great closing pitcher. The members had come back in the Lopresti court martial, Petty Officer Lopresti had been found guilty on all counts. Harm had had an odd week of sorts. Being informed of Mac and the Secretary on Tuesday had thrown him and he'd spent the next day considering what the next step in own career would be after the Admiral had informed him that the Three Wise Men project was being discontinued. He'd been looking around his apartment all week wondering if it was his last week there. "Good try, Mac." Harm grinned as they moved through the hallways of JAG.

"That time at the Pentagon certainly hasn't dulled your skills, Harm." Mac joshed him as they stood waiting for the elevator. "So, I heard you get a new billet today."

"Yeah." Harm couldn't quite bring himself to look her in the eye right now.

"Got any preferences for where you end up?" Mac turned so that she was facing him instead of the elevator.

"Not really." Harm shook his head. "There are some good reasons for me to want to stay in Washington but there's also a kind of listlessness that comes with hanging around this place too long." He laughed nervously. "I've got a meeting with the Admiral in a few minutes to go over assignment options."

"You get options for where you want a transfer when you're an O-6? Man, I've really got to get that promotion." Mac laughed heartily as they stepped on to the elevator. The lingering, unspoken presence in the room whenever Harm's career were the gold wings glinting on his chest. She wanted to ask, she begged to ask "Are you considering re-entering the fleet?"

"It would be kind of tough at this point." Harm opined. "Only billets for Captains are command positions on carriers and I don't have the flight hours to be a CAG."

"I suppose that's true. You may be stuck in Washington?" Mac asked, a note in her voice that touched on relief.

"Could be." Harm got off the elevator at JAG ops, with Mac following in tow. "What are you up to now?"

"I've got to prepare for court on that Yarbrough indecent exposure case against Bud." Mac leaned against the door to her office. Harm gave her a quick nod and headed toward the Admiral's outer office.

"Tiner, I've got an appointment with the Admiral?"Harm looked to the yeoman.

"Yes, sir, he's expecting you." Petty Officer Tiner motioned toward the door and Harm walked through.

"Captain, I hear you were successful in prosecuting Petty Officer Lopresti." The Admiral greeted Harm.

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded.

"At ease, Captain, take a seat." The Admiral motioned to the chair opposite his. "We're here to talk about your next duty station. Obviously, you're a top flight lawyer and I'd like to keep you here at JAG but I simply have no room on the staff for an O-6. I put in a few calls to try and get you something that would appeal to you, Harm and I know others worked on your behalf as well."

"Well, I'm certainly appreciative of those efforts, sir." Harm nodded slowly.

"Here's what we've managed to come up with." The Admiral produced a couple folders. "Admiral Ingles now oversees Naval Air Stations in the Pacific and he's recommended you for a command post."

"Where, sir?" Harm asked, somewhat thrilled at the notion that his old skipper would vouch for him.

"NAS Fallon." The Admiral stated plainly. "Admiral Ingles feels that your record of heroism at the controls of an aircraft means that you have quite a bit to impart on to the next generation of aviators, I'm quite inclined to agree."

"Thank you, sir." Harm couldn't keep the smile from his face. "What's the other option, Admiral?"

"Acting on the recommendation of the Secretary of State, the National Security Advisor needs a new man in uniform to act as his aid and as a watch commander for the Situation Room. You'd be tasked with things like force depletion reports, formulating international law positions in conjunction with White House counsel and similar tasks." The Admiral wanted to make sure that Harm had all the information about the job. "It would include an office in the OEOB. Apparently the Secretary thinks quitely highly of you as both a lawyer and as a person, Captain."

"Yes, sir." Harm looked blank. It was certainly something that had taken him aback. Mic Brumby or Dalton Lowne in the same position likely would have wielded their influence to put as much distance as possible between him and Mac. Instead, Nate Ross had actually put in to have Harm not only working with him but on a track that would see him flagged sooner than not. "How long do I have to weigh my options, Admiral?"

"Well, Admiral Ingles had originally wanted an answer by tonight but one call from the Secretary's office bought you until Monday noon." A.J. Chegwidden leaned back in his chair. "These are a couple good career moves for you, Captain."

"Yes, sir." Harm got up out of the chair.

"Admiral's permission to be dismissed?" Harm came to attention.

"Permission granted." The Admiral gruffly stated and Harm exited the office. As clear as the choice had been two him some two plus years earlier, it was just as clear now. If he wanted to move on, it would have to be as either an aviator or a JAG. He could not be both any longer.

2245 ZULU

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

She hadn't been to a concert since she was a teenager and even then, it was usually a free show in the city park or a five dollar cover at a club. She slid a tight pair of old acid washed jeans over her legs and pulled on a black tank top. She wasn't sure if she should go eighties with the hairstyle, back to the days when she could listen to _Born to Run _and identify with the desire to soar out of the life she was living as a teenager into something far beyond and far better. She couldn't remember being this excited for a date in a long time. They were going to meet Bud and Harriet at the arena before the concert. She put on a pair of boots and waited for him to show. She anticipated that he might, might be late or that there might be an emergency. He was a cabinet official of course, if there was a national security emergency, it would have to come first.

Nervous energy racked her body. There was a knock at the door. She opened it and there he stood, at least she thought it was him. He was a few days past a shave. His normally styled hair was untamed an scraggly. He wore his own tight fitting pair of faded blue Levis and a wrinkled white collared shirt under it with the first three buttons undone. Sunglasses hid his normally dark and brooding eyes, a menacing dancing smile crossed his lips. He was Nate, but not Nate. Or maybe he was for once, the way on the outside that he'd always felt on the inside. He was temptation. In a Marine uniform, he was one archetype, squared away and manichaean. It fit professional Nate so well. But this was a different kind of uniform.

"You look..."She tried to keep her voice level.

"Back at ya." His smile grew wider. "You wanna head out?"

"Yeah." She nodded enthusiastically. She stepped out into the hallway and locked the door behind her. "Leather jacket, huh?"

"Was buried in the back of my closet, I unearthed it earlier this week." He told her. They walked down to street level where a classic Harley was sitting there with two helmets on the seats. "Take the jacket for the drive. The wind's gonna make things chilly. This is that bike I told you about before." He pointed to the scar on the back of his hand.

"We're going to drive that?" She inquired in near disbelief.

"I know a classic car would be a little more in style for a Springsteen concert, but I was understandably limited in time this week, and couldn't restore one." He sarcastically toyed.

"I can't imagine Secret Service approved of this." She looked to him.

"Yeah, I ditched them." He was nonchalant.

"You ditched them?" She followed up.

"Yeah, besides, you think anyone would really recognize me in _this?_" He laughed heartily. He was right. The beard, the sunglasses, the jacket, the hair, the clothes, even CIA specialists wouldn't have recognized him tonight. She laughingly thought that only a Marine sniper could so expertly camouflage himself in an urban environment. He tossed her the jacket and she slid it on. She was giving it back immediately after they got to the arena. It was safety clothing. The plain white shirt was far too tight for her liking and his particular build carried it too well. She wrapped her arms around his middle and he fired up the bike. She put the helmet on and then settled his on to his head.

"No wheelies." She warned him through the muffled composition of the helmet.

"On a classic Harley? No way!" He shouted back as he gunned the bike and headed off across D.C toward the MCI Center. Mac felt like a kid, she really did. She hadn't been on a motorcycle in a long time. A Marine on a motorcycle was a heck of a sight, a Marine with a Master's Degree on a motorcycle was even more potent. The concert wasn't due to start for almost two hours. The parking lot was still filling up quite quickly. Nate pulled the bike into the parking lot next to Bud and Harriet's car. Mac pulled the helmet off and looked Bud and Harriet in the eye.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" Bud questioned and Mac smiled to herself before nodding.

"You look bad ass." Bud grinned and Harriet laughed. "But where's the Secretary, ma'am?"

"Right here, Bud." Nate pulled off his helmet. "Figured I could go a little in cognito tonight. Ever been to a Boss concert before, Bud?"

"No sir, but I hear you got us box seats for this one." Bud walked alongside Nate over to the side of the arena away from the main gate.

"I did, but I traded them earlier for a couple general admission tickets and then I spoke to an attendant, showed him my ID badge and he agreed to let us into the arena a little early so that we could get into the jailbaiters, which are the first sixteen rows that are always left open at Springsteen shows so that they can get a lively crowd close to the stage. Mac sounded disappointed earlier in the week that we weren't going to get a shot at them and I figured we could get lucky and Bruce might end up pulling one of the girls up on stage when the band cues up _Dancing in the Dark_.." They arrived at the side of the building where there was an attendant waiting for them. Nate reached into his pocket and produced his ID badge. The attendant waved the four of them on through and into the arena. There were obviously people who'd also found their way in somehow and they were starting to fill up the first few rows. Mac, Harriet, Bud and Nate settled into a spot in the second row. Mac finally handed Nate back his jacket and after a few minutes people began to crowd around them. A few minutes after the expected start time, the houselights went down and members of the E Street Band began to appear on stage, followed soon after by the Boss himself.

_The Rising_ was the first song cued up and it was followed in turn by _Lonesome Day_ and _Empty Sky_. Bouncing around to the pulsating rhythms, singing along with some of the songs of the new album, and some of the classics off past albums. Mac and Nate shared some wonderful longing glances during _Human Touch _and danced something that looked like a jive during _Crush on You_. The first set ended with a few more songs off _The Rising_ album like _Waiting on a Sunny Day, Into the Fire _and _Mary's Place._ The night was something to be remembered even before Harriet ended up being pulled on stage for _Dancing in the Dark_.


	2. Bobby Jean

Fallon or the White House? Top Gun or 1600? It was a question that had been going through Harm's mind all day, all weekend really. Could he really do it? Could he take command at a Naval Air Station? It would get him a lot of flight time in. It would get him the hell away from Washington. It would get him the hell away from JAG lawyers. It would get him the hell away from...from...from Mac. Mac. Why the fuck did it always come back to Mac. There had been Renee, there had been Jordan, there had been Annie and there had been all the miles in between. A year ago, two years ago, five years ago, if he'd been offered assignment to Fallon, he would have been packed by Saturday night. Now it was Sunday evening, and he sat alone in his apartment with a bottle of JD, staring down at his hands.

Could he really work at the White House? Could he sit in the Situation Room across the from the Secretary of State and see him as a work colleague as opposed to Mac's boyfriend? The President respected him, trusted him. He could be good, very good, it would help his career immeasurably. It would keep him in Washington. He'd be able to control his contact with the people at JAG, he could still see Sturgis and Bud and Harriet and little AJ. He wouldn't have to give up the apartment he'd put all this work into.

A knock came at the door and Harm went to the peephole to answer it. He saw an interim Secretary of State standing outside carrying a six pack of beer. "I know you're home, your Vette's outside." Nate called into the apartment. Harm opened the door to let him in. "Probably the last person you want to see right now, huh?"

"Well, there are war criminals below you on the list." Harm commented somewhat snidely.

"Good to know I can be redeemed." Nate laughed nervously. "Listen, it was not my intent to cause you any undue...stress, I suppose is the word."

"Mac's a big girl, she can live her own life." Harm stated dismissively as he took a seat on the couch.

"Come on, man, this is _me_ you're talking to." Nate wouldn't let him squirm out of this one. "You and I have talked about this on a man-to-man level before. God damn it, Harm, you don't think I hate knowing that you're caught in the middle of this? I respect the hell out of you, I admire the hell out of you."

"If you cared so much, respected me so much, why did you do it?" Harm thought very little of betrayal and even less of sanctimony.

"Because I wanted her. I have from the first time I met her at your wetting down and your not a stupid man and you knew that. But I gave you every opportunity to say it out loud, to her, to me to anybody. Because once you said it out loud, it would be easier for you to say it to her. But you stubbornly wouldn't for God knows what reason. You've known her for more than six years." Nate took a breath. "She fell only short of begging you so many times and in so many ways to step up and be the man she always wanted you to be to her. And you couldn't do that."

"You son of a bitch!" Harm turned on him.

"You want to fight me, Harm?" Nate spat back. "Really? Am I really the person you're pissed at? You had all this time with her, everything she shared, she left a trail of bread crumbs for you right into her heart and _I'm_ the person most deserving of your anger?"

"Why did you come here, Nate?" Harm was seething.

"I came here to tell you that I regret that it happened the way it did. I came here to tell you that the job offer at the White House is genuine, that I really do think you'd knock it out of the park and it would be a fast track to getting you flagged. You do what you want to do Harm, it's the only way you're ever gonna be happy from here on out." Nate tossed the six pack on the couch. "The beer's an apology for whatever I may or may not have done wrong. You're a hell of an officer and a top flight guy. I'm passed the point where I'm willing to walk away from Sarah MacKenzie, Harm. If you want her now, you're gonna have to do something real, you're gonna have to fight for her and not with your fists." Nate walked out the door.

Fallon or the White House? Choosing the White House would likely condemn him to being tethered to the Beltway for the remainder of his career. The closest he would ever get to the blue water Navy again would likely be christening ceremonies at the Norfolk pier for new ships. Yes, it would be a great opportunity for his career, yes it would get him in good with all the right people and he would probably get his flag as much as five years earlier if he took that road. But Washington had finally fatigued Harmon Rabb. He looked around his apartment and sighed. He was gonna have to call the movers and go out and find some boxes tomorrow, because he was headed for Fallon, Nevada.

1550 ZULU, MONDAY

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The elevator brought Harmon Rabb into JAG ops for what very well might have been the last time. He crossed through the bullpen toward the Admiral's office. "Tiner, can I get in to see the Admiral?"

"Yes, sir. He was expecting you a little later, but I doubt that he'd be averse to handling your transfer now, sir." Tiner opened the intercom and told the Admiral that Harm was waiting for him. The Admiral waved Harm in and the Captain walked through the Admiral's door.

"Captain, have you made your decision?" The Admiral looked up from his desk.

"Yes, sir, I respectfully request that you put my transfer papers in to Admiral Ingles so that I can be ready to report to NAS Fallon next week." Harm remained at attention.

"Will do, Captain, thank you for informing me ahead of schedule." The Admiral gruffly stated. "Anything else, Captain?"

"Just wanted to say that it's been a pleasure serving under your command, sir. Even if I did force you to buy stock in Advil." Harm had a small smile on his face.

"You're a damn good officer, Captain, had a lot of men serve under me throughout my time in the Navy and not a one of them impressed me more than you did." AJ Chegwidden got out of his chair. "Thought of how you're going to get your Steerman out to Nevada?"

"Yes, sir, I figured I could fly it out and have everything else shipped by truck." Harm affirmed. "There's not a lot of stuff in my apartment anyway, shouldn't be that taxing a process."

"At least not physically, right Captain?" Admiral Chegwidden moved around to the front of his desk. "Captain this may be a good move for you career, but make sure you're doing it for the right reasons. You of all people should know that you can't run from ghosts, somehow, some way they always find a way to haunt you."

"Yes, sir." Harm cleared his throat. "But I came into the Navy to be an aviator, sir and I don't believe that it's simply some random coincidence that this opportunity has presented itself when it has."

"Well that's certainly one way of looking at it." The Admiral slowly nodded his head in acceptance. "Been a pleasure serving with you, Captain, I hope I'm there when you get your flag."

"Well, I'd like that, sir." Harm reached forward and shook the Admiral's hand. "Be sure to say your goodbyes on the way out, don't leave anything unfinished."

"Yes, sir." Harm gave an understanding nod.

"Dismissed, Captain." AJ returned to his chair.

"Aye, aye, sir." Harm turned on heel and left the Admiral's office. On his way back through the bullpen. The first person he ran into was Lieutenant Bud Roberts. "Bud!" Harm called.

"Sir?" Bud turned to face his friend and mentor. Harriet came over to join them.

"Bud, Harriet....I guess there's really no easy way to go about this but, I'm transferring out today." Harm stopped talking to collect his thoughts.

"Oh, we know, sir." Bud nodded. "But the Pentagon's not that far."

"No, Bud, I'm not headed back to Three Wise Men, the program has been discontinued. The Admiral has put some elbow grease into getting me a transfer out to a command post at NAS Fallon. I've accepted the post." Harm explained, attempting to do so quickly and painlessly.

"You're leaving us, sir?" Bud theorized.

"No, Bud, I'm not leaving. I'll keep in touch, be out here for little A.J's birthday, Sturgis' too and of course to visit the Wall at Christmas." Harm explained. "You'll see plenty of me."

"Just won't quite feel the same, sir." Harriet offered.

"Changes aren't always bad, Harriet, they're just changes." Harm looked over her shoulder. "I'm sure one of my pilots will do something stupid at some point and Bud will be sent out to investigate."

"Yes, sir." Bud laughed.

"Give little AJ a hug for me." Harm put a hand on Harriet's shoulder.

"Will do, sir." Harriet smiled and Harm moved passed them. He walked in the doorway of Sturgis Turner's office.

"Would figure that I'm shipping out just as you're settling in." Harm leaned against the doorway.

"Navy's funny that way." Sturgis pushed out a baritone chuckle. "So, which one did it turn out to be? Fallon or the White House?"

"Figured Fallon was more my speed right now." Harm answered simply. "One of my pilots is bound to get into trouble, maybe I'll get the Admiral to send you and Bud out to investigate."

"Harm, with your luck, the Admiral will be sending Bud and I out to Fallon to investigate you." Sturgis laughed and leaned back in the chair.

"Sturgis, I'm wounded." Harm played up. "I'm older now, wiser."

"And the Navy bought that argument?" Sturgis got up out of his chair.

"I guess, they're giving me a whole air wing to play with." Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"God help us all." Sturgis quipped. Sturgis extended his hand and pulled Harm in for a quick bear hug. "Might end up CNO after all, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe." Harm pulled out of the hug and moved toward the door. "See ya later, Sturgis."

"Yeah, see ya later, Harm." Sturgis nodded and Harm moved out into the bullpen. He looked over at Mac's office and saw her sitting back in her chair on the phone. A wide smile played upon her lips. He considered it for a second. Should he go over and say goodbye? He shook his head and walked through the big glass doors and out of JAG ops for what might have been the last time.

1613 ZULU, THURSDAY  
JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac had been in a great mood all week and it was a week that seemed like it had lasted a month. It had started with the concert last Friday night and it was followed up by her surprising him at his apartment on Saturday morning with a ten mile run followed by breakfast take-out. Monday night she'd brought a few movies over from Blockbuster, he ordered some delivery pizza and they'd had a movie night. Then last night, Mac had her first encounter with shutterbugs as a few reporters had staked out their dinner date at 1789 in Georgetown. The owner of the restaurant was courteous enough to keep them out of the restaurant and away from the windows and he'd also provided a back door exit for the two of them to utilize and evade the press.

She'd walked into JAG just on time this morning and spent the morning working researching a new medical procedure that was being tied to a murder case she was trying. She was in court against Bud this afternoon in that particular case. She was having fun with a romance that finally worked the way a romance was supposed to work. They dated, they exchanged lovesick glances after going a day or two without seeing each other, they touched... a lot. She liked that she could slip off for a few seconds while working in her office and let her thoughts get lost in him.

The Carlson murder case was the story of an aviator accused of staging an intentional ramp strike in order to kill his RIO. She could really use Harm right now. She knew that he was supposed to be starting his reassignment this week, even though she wasn't sure where he'd been assigned. Mac picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number of the apartment North of Union Station. The normal ring of the phone was replaced with an automated message telling her that the number had been disconnected. Mac set the phone down in confusion, she figured that they had to be doing some kind of work on the lines in Harm's neighbourhood or something. She set the phone down in confusion and walked out into the bullpen. "Bud?"

"Yes, ma'am." Bud looked up from his paperwork at the Colonel.

"I tried calling Captain Rabb at home but the line was disconnected. Do you know where his current billet station is?"Mac was disappointed in herself that she hadn't taken the time to ask before he'd left JAG.

"Yes ma'am, he was headed to NAS Fallon this morning. He was taking the Steerman across country to Nevada, I wasn't sure when he was leaving. You might be able to still catch him if you left now." Bud looked at the Colonel whose expression instantly changed. She wasn't in court against Bud until 1400, she could head out and claim she was doing a follow up on her case before taking a lunch and coming back to JAG.

"Lieutenant, if the Admiral asks, I've left the office to follow up on a lead in Carlson and I'll be back after lunch." Mac headed for the door.

"Ma'am as the defence, if this is material to the case then I should be made party to it, should I not?" Bud inquired, suddenly curious.

"If it's material, Lieutenant, I'll apprise you of it immediately." Mac headed through the doors and rushed down the stairs to her Corvette. The whole drive to D.C, she never broke her laser-beam focus on getting to the apartment to talk to Harm, at least to wish him goodbye. She got there and the Lexus wasn't visible, which she took as a bad sign. She rode up in the elevator to the hallway outside the familiar and storied apartment. She saw the door swung open slightly and pushed her way through it. The apartment was cavernous, empty. She could hear her breath echo off the walls. Harmon Rabb Jr had slipped away without saying goodbye. Perhaps better for both of them that he had but that wasn't an argument she was willing to entertain at the moment. She shook her head and forced back tears. All the years and all the adventures that they had shared together and this was how it ended? He had just slipped away, briskly drifting away from DC like Chesapeake breeze.

She was angry. Angry at herself for having been so readily at his beck and call one last time. Angry at him for simply disappearing. Angry at the other man in her life, because she was sure he knew and sure he had kept it from her. She stormed down to her Corvette and thunderously shut the car door behind her, once again taking to the roads. Moments later she had pulled into the parking lot at Foggy Bottom and marched through the building to the outer office of the Secretary of State. "Is the Secretary in?" Mac inquired of Nate's secretary.

"Yes, he is." The later middle aged woman replied from behind her spectacles. "Whom may I ask is inquiring?"

"Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie." Mac sounded professional and angry. The secretary rang the intercom and Nate's voice could be heard through the other end.

"Yes, Betty." The familiar voice of Nate Ross rung through the room.

"A Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie is here to see you, sir." The secretary stated authoritatively.

"By all means let her in." Nate replied and the secretary got out of her chair and opened the door for Mac. "And Mrs. Clarkson? Sarah is henceforth to be extended walk-in privileges, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Mrs. Clarkson nodded curtly to the intercom. Mac was taken back by the seeming comfort with which he had used her given name. She moved into the office and was struck by it. Normally things like this wouldn't cause her to lose a step but this certainly did. She had referred to him as "Mr. Secretary" before, certainly Bud and Harriet had done the same in front of her and she had certainly accepted on a rational level that he was the Secretary of State but it had never really seemed tangible until this very moment. His office was considerably larger than the Admiral's and similar to the Admiral's office, the only windows into the room were behind his desk, creating the kind of image and presence that people in positions of power often wished to convey.

"Hey, Mac." Nate moved out from behind his desk. "Come to surprise me for lunch?"

"Come demanding an answer." Mac was firm, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"I'm gonna at least need to know the question, Alex." Nate laughed nervously.

"Why didn't you tell me about Harm's transfer out to NAS Fallon?" She pressed, causing him to back up against his desk.

"Well, I suppose because you never asked. But also because I'm a little pissed at him too." Nate's eyes narrowed. "I went to the plate for him with the National Security Advisor to get him that opening at the White House and he turned it down so that he could go teach stick-jockeys out in the desert? I'm a little annoyed."

"You made it possible for him to stay in Washington?" Mac's hard demeanour softened.

"Made it possible? I did everything but have the President give him a direct order." Nate's fingernails dug into the wood of his desk. "I didn't tell you because you never asked but also because I figured that he would have. The guy's your best friend, Mac, I figured it was one of those things that would come up in conversation, which isn't totally unreasonable."

"You're my boyfriend, you should have told me." Her tone softens as she moves toward his arms.

"Well, I'm learning still." He wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. Her stomach rumbled softly, interrupting the two of them. "Guess I have to feed you after all, huh?"

"Well, if you're going to offer..." Mac toyed.

0142 ZULU, FRIDAY

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

"What are you looking out the window at, Commander?" Lieutenant Tyler "Dutch" Holland

"Nevada, Lieutenant." Commander Jack Keeter didn't even cast a glance over his shoulder at his subordinate. Their new skipper was supposed to be arriving today, his last billet was somewhere in D.C. Toast of the Georgetown cocktail circuit Keeter figured, one of those types. Coming in on a privately owned plane, who the hell did that? "When is this jokester supposed to be in, Dutch?"

"Before 1900, sir." Lieutenant Holland stared at the op-plan.

"Fallon tower, this is Steerman November Romeo 1-4-2." A voice came in over the squawk box.

"Steerman November Romeo 1-4-2, this is Fallon tower. Wind out of the west at eight knots, you're bearing 1-0-4 and cleared on runway 1, click twice for runway lights." Lieutenant Holland grumbled into the squawk box.

"Light it up just so I know which one's runway 1." The voice in the box chimed back in. Keeter reached down and lit up the runway. Keeter stepped outside the door to the tower and watched the yellow bi-plane come gliding in toward runway one. Yellow bi-plane? A yellow Steerman bi-plane? No, it couldn't be. Keeter watched the plane touch down at one of runway one and taxi down the runway to a gradual stop at home plate.

"Dutch, get a couple of plane captains out there to bring the bird into the garage." Keeter directed and Lieutenant Holland radioed into the hangar to get a couple plane captains out on to the runway to bring the bird in. "Not bad, sir." Keeter walked up to the yellow bi-plane.

"Thanks, Keeter." Harm pulled off his goggles and cap. Keeter's smile was a mile wide.

"Attention!" Keeter called and all the personnel within earshot came to attention. "This is Captain Harmon Rabb Jr. His call sign is "Hammer". I know him as the best damn squid I ever flew with. The rest of you will know him as your CO."

"Aye, aye, sir." The men replied.

"Lieutenant Holland!" Keeter shouted for the officer who had been acting as his staff assistant as the unit awaited its new commanding officer. The young officer came rushing over to his former CO. "Show the new CAG to his office, then inform the officers that I will be hosting a welcome party for Captain at my quarters this evening. As the CO of this base, you're also the CAG of VFC-13, the "Saints". I heard the SECNAV figured that since you're one of the few pilots to have ever flown a MiG, made sense to put you behind the stick of an F-5 bogey."

"Sounds unusually reasonable for the SECNAV." Harm laughed as the two men headed toward the base offices. "Nice to be part of a squadron again."

"Didn't you say that once before?" Keeter joshed as he opened the door. "Weather's something weird ass freaky out here, Harm. We get 115 degree days and then something like 40 degree nights. Snakes and Yotes are the only damn things that can survive here in the desert."

"Well, them and Navy pilots, right Keeter?" Harm pushed open the door to his new office. "Not bad digs."

"Not at all, sir." Keeter grinned. "You might find a bottle of Dewar's in your bottom drawer, Hammer."

"Sucking up to the new CAG before you even knew who he was, Keeter?" Harm laughed as he pulled the bottle out of his desk.

"Just trying to keep this duty station, Hammer." Keeter gave a nod to his new commander. "Thought you weren't supposed to officially check in until next Monday."

"Wasn't but I had the time, figured I'd skip out of Washington early and get here early. My stuff is being shipped in from D.C, should be here on Sunday morning." Harm leaned back in his chair. "Only thing that would make this duty any better is if Luke were here to keep pace with us."

"Amen to that, Hammer." Keeter took a seat opposite Harm.

"Alright, Keeter, give me a rundown of my pilots." Harm coughed lightly as he glanced out the window.

"Well, you met Dutch already." Keeter cleared his throat. "That's Lieutenant Tyler Holland. I had him as my staff officer while waited for our new CO. Good pilot, not great. Top flight staff officer, pencil pusher extraordinaire. Kind of officer some of the Navy higher ups are really in for. You'll meet the rest of the crew tonight."

"When's the next Top Gun class due in?" Harm played with a pen on his desk.

"Week Monday." Keeter grunted. "Avionics are starting to fly these damn planes for some of these kids. I'd like to see them ride with the last generation of gear, the stick and their wits. We've gotta start moving the kids up to the Hornets, next year is the last year for the Tomcats.

"I know." Harm shook his head. "End of a Navy era."

"They're moving us into bugs, that's the bitch of it. I almost wish they'd let me keep a Tomcat for myself when they retire the old gals." Keeter shook his head. "You may have some fun getting used to the F-5s, we should try and get up this weekend. I'll take you on a few runs through Dixie Valley, get you used to the terrain. It ain't like the runs that they used to have us do at Fightertown."

"Probably better that they moved us out to the desert, we fight sand wars now." Harm got up out of the chair. "So, should I have them move me into the BOQ, or you got a spare room at your place where I can crash until I find a decent place to live?"

"Yeah, I got a room." Keeter stepped toward the door. "Now, if I may be allowed to secure, sir, I've got to set us up for a welcome home party tonight."

"Welcome home, Commander Keeter?" Harm inquired curiously.

"Well yeah, Harm, back to the real Navy, your home." Keeter laughed again. "Permission to secure, sir?"

"Granted, Keeter." Harm laughed and waved Keeter out of the office.

SAME TIME, FRIDAY

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

A pizza and a rented movie would normally be a wasted Friday night. It was less of one when you were making the pizza and some Pillsbury cookies with your boyfriend definitely improved the night considerably. Mac was standing over the counter with Nate's arms around her middle, as they delicately dressed the pizza with pepperoni, Italian sausage, mushrooms and green peppers. "Hey, did I tell you I made an interesting purchase at lunch today?" He kissed her neck.

"Oh yeah?" She had a definite lilt in her voice. He reached down into his pocket and produced a Polaroid. "What is that rust bucket?"

"Be kind, Mac." Nate retracted the picture. "It's a '32 Ford deuce coup...or at least the frame of one. I've got to restore it, of course, but it'll be a good hobby for me. I haven't put anything with an engine together since high school, but I can probably still lock in on how to do it."

"Okay, it's way too early in our relationship for me to talk to you about responsibly spending money. But in six weeks, you and I are going to have a serious conversation about spending money." She laughed boisterously.

"Come on, Mac. I still know where all the parts go and what they all do." He winked at her suggestively.

"I'll just bet you do, Major." She moved over to the counter and began rolling balls of dough.

"I've just got to find a classic 221 Ford flathead V-8 engine to put in it." Nate opened the oven and slid the pizza into it.

"Hun, under the right circumstances, you getting all gear-head with me is sexy, this is not that circumstance." Mac looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend who was leaning back against the cabinets.

"Understood, Colonel." Nate laughed lightly. "How's JAG?"

"Carlson case is killing me. I'm not sure how I can establish motive for how someone who decides to use a ramp strike as a method for murder. Martin Baker literally saved this RIO's life." Mac moved toward the living room.

"Well, it's either attempted murder to criminal negligence, isn't it?" Nate called from the kitchen.

"Problem with criminal negligence is that it could also implicate the CAG of the carrier if I argue that he should have known Lieutenant Carlson was too poor a pilot to be tasked with trapping at night." Mac called back. "Intent is what's killing me."

"Hey, that lawyers can ever establish requisite intent is one of the things I find fascinating about your profession. I deal with politicians all day, we're capable of ruining people using simple innuendo and aspersions." Nate chuckled heartily as he moved into the living room.

"Yeah, proof is an amusing thing." Mac laughed as she shuffled over next to him on the couch. "Aside from thinking up jokes and looking for hot rods to restore, you do actually do things as the Secretary of State, right? Because I'd hate to think my tax dollars are paying for that."

"Did you really want to hear about my conference call with the NSA and JCS Chairman or did you really want to hear about my face-to-face with the Israeli Foreign Minister?" Nate peaked an eyebrow. "I also took a few calls from bitchy ambassadors who were upset with their postings and wanting to be reassigned to some place with a little more sun, a little more beach-front boardwalk and a lot less bullets."

"No pass-blocking with the UN?" Mac questioned.

"Never, ever, ever on a Friday." Nate shook his head. "No one in New York works on a Friday, it takes them until noon just to get in to work. The latest the Secretary-General will ever call me is 9pm on a Thursday night."

"Really?" Mac got up from the couch.

"Well, unless something blows up...but then the call usually goes down the street to the White House switchboard operators." Nate swung his head back and forth in an attempt to relieve stress.

"That a job you want?"Mac's eyes peered into the living room.

"President of the United States?" Nate got up off the couch and moved into the kitchen. "I spoke to an old fraternity buddy of mine who's doing legal work up in New York for Gage, Whitney, Pace. He used to work for a Congressman a few years back and he's without question, the best writer I have ever seen in person. He thinks I should run, even offered to help quarterback my exploratory committee. Hell of an interesting guy, was the recording secretary for the Princeton Gilbert and Sullivan society."

"You're considering it?" She led him with a smile.

"I consider everything." He smiled back.

0344 ZULU, FRIDAY

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

Keeter had the music playing, some hanging lights on the patio and beach chairs set up under the desert sunset. He brought out a couple of coolers stocked with Corona with a bottle of Cuervo tucked under his arm. "Cervesa!"

"Si! Senor!" Harm cheered as he took a cooler from Keeter. "Think the junior officers are a little reluctant to meet their new CO?"

"You're a pretty easy going, guy. They'll warm up to you." Keeter chuckled and settled into a chair.

"Lieutenant Tyler Holland reporting, sir." Lieutenant Holland squared up at the steps to Keeter's porch.

"Dutch, I swear to God, if you can't pull the stick out of your six..." Keeter started in.

"At ease, Lieutenant, take a seat." Harm called Keeter off. Lieutenant Holland climbed the stairs and Harm tossed him a beer. "Where ya from, Dutch?"

"Trenton, New Jersey, sir." The tepid young Lieutenant answered.

"And why'd you become an aviator?" Harm took a swig of his Corona.

"Was a thrill-seeker and knew girls liked the uniform, sir." Dutch replied with a smile. Two more officers snapped to attention at the foot of the steps.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?" The Hispanic officer inquired.

"Permission granted, Lieutenant Commander." Harm nodded and the two new men jumped up the stairs and grabbed a beer a piece.

"Captain, may I present Lieutenant Commander Miguel Rosales, we call him 'Rattler'." Keeter indicated the Hispanic officer. "Also, may I present Lieutenant Mario Fanelli, we call him 'Priest'." Keeter indicated to the other officer. "I'm sure the rest of the squadron will be around shortly, Hammer."

"I do hope your right, Commander Keeter, lessons we learn in the course our Navy career includes never turning down a drink with your CO." Harm laughed along with his new junior officers. "So, why Rattler, Commander Rosales?"

"I grew up in So Cal, in the Mojave desert specifically. When I was younger, my father used to take me and my brothers out in the desert riding horses. I learned that I could shoot the eyes out of a Western Diamondback Rattlesnake from thirty paces at a full gallop. Not bad training for here at the ranch, sir, but it don't do you a damn bit of good trying a night trap."

"And you, Lieutenant Fanelli, what's with the Priest moniker?" Harm looked to the obviously newly minted O-3.

"That one's our doing, Hammer." Keeter jumped in. "Ya never did see a more Catholic son of a bitch try to get one off the ground, I swear he even gives the last rights to dummy targets."

"Y'ever see combat, Priest?" Harm saw a bit of himself in the young Lieutenant.

"Yes sir, I was assigned here after I ran with the Black Knights off Johnny-Reb during the opening days of Operation Enduring Freedom. Managed a one-eyed return to the carrier after some flak cracked my canopy and sent some glass into my eyelid.

"They give you your DFC for that one?" Harm pressed.

"No sir, my CAG put me in for my DFC because I took the flak on the way in, hit every one of my targets on the ground, including the site that hit me, before turning and beating tail back home." The Lieutenant answered stoically.

"Good man, Lieutenant, damn good man." Harm nodded to his junior officer and raised his beer to him.


	3. Point Blank

The events of the last few months, hell, the last year and a half had really prevented Nate from ever taking a vacation. The President's orders on Friday afternoon had required him to take the next week off. Nate was a month behind on his reservist duties, so he talked to the Quantico CO and inquired as to whether he could four days at the base this week. With his usually Gunnery Sergeant Scout-Sniper instructor down with a nasty case of food poisoning, Colonel Rypien agreed to bring the Secretary in for a few days. With his footlocker in hand and his Class As on, Secretary Nate Ross became Marine Corps Major Nathan Ross. He reported at 0645 to his Commanding Officer who received him and assigned him to the shooting range. Nate got into his BDUs and headed out to the range.

He was joined by his other Marines promptly at 0730. The sight of a six-foot-three Marine Corps Major in place of the usual five-foot-ten Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant threw the Marines for a second. "I am Major Ross and I'll be your instructor for the week." Nate grinned from behind his sunglasses. "Are we all assembled, Staff Sergeant?" Nate looked to his chief NCO.

"No sir, we're missing Corporal LaRue and Lance Corporal Burns." The Staff Sergeant answered.

"Are they usually tardy, Staff Sergeant?" Nate eyeballed the Marines currently assembled along the firing line.

"We have had some issues with Corporal LaRue in the past, sir, but Lance Corporal Burns has always been a squared away Marine." The Staff Sergeant replied.. From the brush behind the target range, a flare went up followed by the sound of a rifle shot in the background. Nate's Marines notably flinched.

"That was a dummy mine, flare." Nate stated to the Staff Sergeant. "Is Colonel Rypien running an exercise in the woods, Staff Sergeant?"

"No, sir. No exercises expected until this afternoon, Major." The Staff Sergeant answered.

"Staffs, grab the sergeant here and go investigate." Nate ordered, his Staff Sergeant who pulled one of the Marines off the firing line. "And Staffs?"

"Yes, sir?" The Staff Sergeant stopped and came to attention.

"Take all necessary precautions, last thing I need is to go in after more Marines." The Major directed.

"Aye, aye, sir." The Staff Sergeant looked to his CO who handed him a radio and he headed toward the brush with a sergeant riding shotgun.

"Lieutenant?" The Major called to the only officer in the class.

"Yes, Major." The Lieutenant came to attention.

"Head up to the office, get Colonel Rypien down here ASAP." Nate looked to his Marines.

"Major Ross, Staff Sergeant calling in, sir." The Staff Sergeant chimed through the radio. "Found Lance Corporal Burns, sir. Dead, single shot through the head."

"Can you bring him back?" Nate inquired.

"I could try, sir. But one thing concerns me, Major, the wound looks like one of our M40 rounds." The Staff Sergeant responded the sound rifle fire could be heard in the background. "Orders, sir?"

Nate paused and thought for a second. "Staffs, get you and the Sergeant back here. We'll get orders and equipment and proceed accordingly."

"Yes, sir." The Staff Sergeant obeyed and headed back out of the brush.

"Major Ross!" The rough, cigar muffled voice of Colonel Rypien sounded. "What the hell is going on? I let you in here for a few days and on your first morning, you've got missing Marines and trapped ones in the woods."

"And one dead one, sir. Lance Corporal Burns didn't miss roll, sir. He'd been killed" Nate offered. "Staffs informs me that it appears to be a single shot M40 round. We still have no sign of Corporal LaRue either."

"Lieutenant Maxwell." Colonel Rypien called the young Marine off the firing line. "Go search the barracks for Corporal LaRue and his weapon. Major Ross, get the rest of your men suited up, you're going hunting."

"Aye, aye, sir." Nate nodded and began to lead his men to quartermaster for their ghillie suits. "Colonel, sir?" Nate turned back and looked over his shoulder. "I suggest you call JAG, sir?"

"Why would I do that, Major?" Colonel Rypien fixed his hands to his hips.

"Sir, we need to make sure this proceeds in accordance with the UCMJ so that we can nail this guy's ass to the wall." Nate reasoned.

"Wise suggestion, Major." Colonel Rypien exhaled a cloud of smoke. The Colonel headed for the station phone on the firing line and called into his office for his yeoman. "Sergeant, get me the Judge Advocate General's Office!"

1341 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"Commander Turner, Colonel, take a seat." The Admiral waved the two of them to take a seat. "About fifteen minutes ago, I got a call from Colonel Gill Rypien, the commander at Quantico Marine Corps Base. Apparently a Corporal Peter LaRue killed Lance Corporal Matthew Burns in the brush behind the scout-sniper target range at the base. The watch officer on the range sent a recon party into the brush to uncover the situation after the explosion of a dummy mine and gunshot created suspicion."

"Who was the watch officer on the range, sir?" Commander Turner piped up.

"Major Nathan Ross." The Admiral stated plainly. "Colonel Rypien has ordered the Major and his men up into the woods to pursue Corporal LaRue. The Major is ordered to dig him out."

"As I understand the Major's record, sir, this could be a very short day for Corporal LaRue." Sturgis piped up.

"That's why the Major recommended to Colonel Rypien that a JAG officer be sent in to keep things in line under the UCMJ." The Admiral added on to Commander Turner's outburst. "I believe that the Major will do as Colonel Rypien orders him to and he will shoot Corporal LaRue."

"If the Corporal doesn't shoot him first, sir." Mac whispered.

"Mac, I realize that your relationship with the Secretary is going to lead to the desire to be protective but believe me when I say that I've read the man's service record. The Corporal would have a better shot at a snipe out in those woods than he would at Major Ross." The Admiral shook his head. "You two get out to Quantico and make sure that this doesn't get out of hand." Sturgis and Mac came to attention.

"Aye, aye, sir." Mac answered for the two of them.

"Dismissed." The Admiral indicated for the two of them to leave his office. Mac and Sturgis moved out into the bullpen.

"Colonel, I think you should remove yourself from this case." Sturgis stated bluntly.

"Sturgis, where the hell did that come from?" Mac turned on him.

"Mac, your boyfriend's in the bush trying to chase down a Marine who has already killed one person this morning. There's no way you can even pretend to be impartial no matter how hard you try on this one." Sturgis argued as they moved to her office.

"I told Harm, I told Brumby and now I'll tell you, Commander. I do not let my emotions dictate how I approach a case. I don't care if it's my boyfriend, my son or my sister out in that bush, I will approach this case the exact same way." Mac organized her things and tucked her cap under her arm. She headed with Sturgis for the door. "Commander, the Admiral respectfully disagrees with you and if I enjoy the confidence of my Commanding Officer, that's about all I need in this circumstance."

"Which is fine for me, but I'm not sure it's something that the Secretary would like to hear, Colonel." Sturgis shook his head as they stood in front of the elevator.

"Oh no, Sturgis, you do not get to play relationship counselor with me." Mac shook her head.

"My apologies, Colonel, but as your friend I'd be a little more concerned in the instance that you were in a relationship with a man that you were able to emotionally separate yourself from so easily." Sturgis assumed that kind of holier than though preacher tone he used from time to time.

"Sturgis, I said that I was able to stop myself from being led by my emotions, I never said that I wouldn't feel anything about the danger involved in this case." Mac stepped on to the elevator with Sturgis.

"Mac, if what the Admiral said was true, you probably don't have anything to worry about." Sturgis waited impatiently for the elevator doors to open. The Admiral was right, Mac hadn't seen his service record but she had seen the inside of his kill book. She knew the names, not the missions or medals. She knew about his time spent with drug interdiction forces in Panama and Colombia; she knew about his mission as a part of Operation Just Cause and Operation Desert Storm. If he'd stayed on active duty, he would have easily been a Lieutenant Colonel by now, maybe even a full bird with command over an MEU.

In his office, the Admiral was having similar thoughts. It wasn't often that good officers simply gave up their service in the Marine Corps. He'd served with distinction, completed over forty missions as a Marine Corps sniper. AJ had been able to get most of his service record un-redacted. Not only had then Lieutenant Nathan Ross served the Marine Corps as a sniper, he had also served on classified missions for the Central Intelligence Agency in Libya, Argentina, Indonesia and Nicaragua. Snipers normally had a short shelf life, at least as snipers, often as not they were reassigned to jobs as regular infantry, drill instructors or even as members of embassy detachments. Life as an infantry officer likely would have awaited Nathan Ross had he remained in the Corps, followed by life as a staff officer once he got his bottlecap, followed by life as a field commander once he got his bird.

"Have you talked to Harm since he left?" Sturgis turned to Mac as they drove to Quantico.

"Still waiting for him to apologize for leaving without saying goodbye." Mac was curt with Commander Turner.

"I've been waiting for Harm to apologize for something he did when we were at the Academy back in '82. It's been twenty years and he hasn't apologized, he also probably won't if he even remembers." Sturgis cleared his throat and drummed on the dashboard nervously. "He's a really good guy, Mac, he just kind of has a propensity for wandering on to an emotional firing range during live fire exercises."

"Sturgis, if I meant to Harm what everyone around here seems to think I mean to him, he would have found some non-adolescent way of telling me that. He would have found some time, some place, some circumstance where he could express desire for me and I could respond." Mac's gaze hardened on the road in front of the car. "Come on, the night of my engagement party, Sturgis? In the wake of my failed engagement? Harm picked times that were emotionally safe because he knew that I would snap back at him and he could play the wounded puppy to the big bad Marine who walked all over his flyboy heart."

"You never took charge, Mac." Sturgis countered.

"Yes, I did." Mac cut him off. "One night on the ferry in Sydney. He wasn't with Renee yet and I was still spurning Mic's advances. There were so many flirtations and hints, Sturgis, for almost two years I tried to signal him, tell him, stay open for him."

"I didn't know that, Mac. But you might just be giving me one side of the story. Everyone tries to put on their best face with other people. I hear one story from you, I'd probably hear another from Harm, if I asked him and could actually get him to talk about it." Sturgis shook his head. "Can we just drop it?"

"Smartest thing you've said all day." Mac answered.

1610 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to TOP GUN!" Keeter cheered as the newest class lined up on the tarmac. "I will be your lead flight instructor, Commander Keeter. Though, you will obviously know and address me as 'sir' or 'Commander'. To my right is your new CO, Captain Rabb. You will refer to him as 'Captain' or 'sir'. By his permission, if you are flying with him, you may be able to refer to him as Hammer." Keeter cracked his knuckles. "To the rear and to my left, you will see my guard dogs, the VFC-13 Saints. My squadron XO, Lieutenant Commander Rosales, known to you all as 'sir' but to me and the Captain as 'Rattler'. The squadron is, Lieutenant 'Dutch' Holland, Lieutenant 'Priest' Fanelli, Lieutenant 'Prowler' Kawami and Lieutenant 'Spartan' Dimitrakos."

"Aye, aye, sir." The new Top Gun class chorused.

"You are here because your past Commanding Officers and Air Group Commanders thought you had superior skills." Keeter rolled his eyes. "What the hell they saw, I have no idea because as aviators, they are required to have regular eye tests because standing in front of me I see the sorriest excuse for Naval Aviators that I have ever seen. I ought to send all of you for training as paddlers. But I have six weeks to turn you all into aviators that won't endanger the lives of five thousand plus sailors every time you attempt to land on a deck so by God, that's what I'm going to do."

"Sir, yes sir." The aviators chanted.

"This morning, we've got a pri-flight to test your mettle. You'll be going up against the Saints on your run, Captain Rabb will be observing from the flight tower. If even one of you can survive fifteen minutes with the Saints, you'll get your first marks on the ready board." Keeter pulled his helmet out from under his arm. "Get into your birds, you get a five minute head start." The new TOP GUN class headed off to their birds and Keeter walked into a fathering of the Saints. "I want'em all down in five minutes. If it takes longer than ten, I'm ordering all of you to clean the head with toothbrushes tonight, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Rattler answered for the squad.

"Good." Keeter walked over to Harm. "All squared away, sir."

"Little rough on the Saints, weren't you, Commander?" Harm questioned from behind his sunglasses.

"Just getting them ready, skipper." Keeter jeered.

"Then go duck hunting, Keeter." Harm nodded to his old friend who jogged over to his ride. The first Saint up into the air was Dutch, he was followed in turn by Prowler, Spartan, Priest, Rattler and Keeter. Harm stood up in the tower watching the action on radar. Last week, as the Saints prepared for the arrival of the new class, Harm had gone up with them. He'd gotten to know the flying styles of his instructors. Prowler and Spartan were daredevils, they flew with the most natural tenacity, trying to shake opposing pilots by doing the unexpected and unthinkable. Rattler was a weapons strategist, he knew every piece of hardware hanging from his bird and how to make best use of any in a given scenario. Dutch was a tactical pilot, just like Keeter said, everything by the book and preferred his missiles over a knife fight. Priest was the most naturally talented pilot Harm had ever seen. Stylistically, the young jock from Brooklyn reminded Harm of how a young Tom Boone must have flown. No one ever flew F-14s like the CAG. For a second, in his mind, Harm was transported back to the deck of the USS Ticonderoga in 1969, envisioning his dad and Tom Boone patrolling the skies in Uncle Ho's neighbourhood.

He looked down at the radar screen just in time to see Priest lock on to a couple of his new students and send them packing. After a few more minutes, there was one lone recruit weaving and diving through the Lahontan Valley trying to evade Prowler and Spartan. Harm watched the new recruit with some appreciation. He had successfully evaded two older more experienced aviators for going on seven minutes but his latest move had left him at a disadvantage. He had overshot his climb to scale a ridge in the valley and as a result was now flying somewhere in the vicinity of Angels 15. Just then, Harm saw the radar signature of an F-5 come soaring in from the opposite direction. Priest had kept himself under radar in the valley and was now closing in on the last recruit. Within seconds, he had missile lock and the last recruit was headed back to the tarmac.

"Nice flying, Priest." Harm radioed out to his pilot.

"Thank you, sir." The young Lieutenant replied appreciatively. "Eight minutes, thirty-seven seconds, Commander Keeter."

"No head detail for the Saints the, but we've still got ready room time with the recruits before anyone gets chow." Keeter led the Saints back down on to the tarmac. The recruits were lined up outside the door to the flight tower waiting for Harm to come down and address them. The Saints headed over from their birds which were busy being tended to in the hangars.

"Not bad for you first day, Saints." Harm looked over his instructors. "Priest, you've got greenie board honours for racking up the most kills today."

"Yes, sir." The young Italian Lieutenant broke his demeanour with a smile.

"As for you, recruits," Harm's head scanned slowly side to side. "This is Top Gun, those men are among the best the Navy has to offer, and when we're done with you six weeks from now, you may actually be worthy of flying with them. Commander Keeter will be addressing you in the ready room in fifteen minutes, go attire yourselves appropriately."

"Sir, yes sir." The recruits replied in chorus and dashed off.

1623 ZULU

QUANTICO MCB

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

After it was confirmed that it was Corporal LaRue who had gone to ground in the brush after taking Lance Corporal Burns' life, Colonel Rypien had sent his scout-snipers into the brush after him. In his ghillie suit, complete with his M40A1 sniper rifle, Major Nate Ross stalked the woods where he had once trained for his duty as a Marine sniper. He knew where the rookies spent the night staked out. There were hundreds upon hundreds of acres of brush to comb through and he knew all the popular spots. Good snipers made their opponents come to them. Great snipers could stalk their opponents without ever breaking a twig or rustling a branch.

These woods would be crawling with Marines soon enough. The paint smeared under his eyes he kept the sun's invasion a minimum. He crawled up into an elm tree and gazed through his scope in an attempt to get the lay of the land. Scout-sniper training was an eight and a half week course, it used to be a full ten week course complete with an entry into the Marine Corps Wimbledon Cup at the end. The increase in both up and purse tempo at the Pentagon though, meant that the Corps needed to get more snipers into the field sooner rather than later.

From his perch, Nate could see two teams of Marines making their way up the ridge. Corporal LaRue had been sloppy in his killing of Lance Corporal Burns, he'd alerted officers capable of bringing in superior firepower to draw him out and he'd given away his presence. Perhaps most dangerously though, he'd tipped off one of the Marine Corps' best snipers to his skill level. Colonel Rypien had reacted too hastily though to the death of his Marine. He'd sought to kill a fly with a howitzer, not realizing that he could potentially do more harm by sending in large numbers of Marines than if he had simply let the Major lead in a few scout-sniper tandems.

It was just about 1130 hours on the East Coast, he could track Corporal LaRue for a few more hours in the daylight. He'd catch him for sure when the sun went down but if he got lucky, he would catch him earlier. He knew LaRue would have to climb the ridge to the caves near the top to keep warm for the night. He could intercept him on his way up there. If only Colonel Rypien would have the good sense to keep his Marines back behind fixed locations for the day. If he could keep the rest of the Marines from being killed, Nate could bring LaRue in and then maybe this whole thing wouldn't have to turn into some discount bin version of the Caleb Farmer incident. Nate loaded a five round magazine into his rifle and peered through the scope again. Nearly twenty years of this had given him keen eyes and a sense for finding other snipers even in the thickest brush. Scanning the area beneath his tree he could see one other scout sniper team cloaked by a mulberry bush and a few fallen oak logs. He shimmied down out of the elm tree and crept along the banks of a creak toward a familiar grouping of ivy bushes. Covered from head to toe, his skin was safe from the effect of the plant and it gave him a more commanding view of the area below.

The stoic Marine overlooked the clearing below. This was the terrain the Colonel wanted, understandable, he'd come up as a Huey pilot. The clearing was an LZ, but for a sniper it was open ground. Anyone walking across it was a sitting duck. There was no way to make use of natural terrain, no way of taking cover, the only thing you could rely on was speed and surprise. The sound of another high powered round discharging caught Nate's attention as it was followed in rapid succession by another two. He estimated that it couldn't be more than 1200 yards west. He moved himself out of his current position and headed east to investigate. Moving through some heavily wooded brush, Nate came upon a couple Marines pinned down behind a thankfully large piece of limestone. Major Ross positioned himself behind a tree, some 400 yards east and looked for Corporal LaRue.

He saw the end of an M40A3 gun barrel poking through a whole in a stump and he grinned maniacally. He moved his crosshairs back along the target line by about four feet and then adjusted for the distance and wind. He squeezed the trigger and fired off a shot. Nearly twenty years of doing this meant one thing, he could decipher what each sound meant. He was hoping he'd hit Corporal LaRue in the leg and obviously he had succeeded. There was a rampant rustling in the bushes around where the gun barrel had been. Nate rushed over to where the two wounded Marines were pinned down. "What's the situation, Sergeant?" Nate whispered.

"I'm hit in the hip, sir." The Marine answered, through gritted teeth. "It's nothing serious, but my buddy, Sergeant Grange is hit in the chest. He needs a medic, really bad."

"Alright, we've probably got about thirty seconds where we can safely move him." Nate looked at the tourniquet over the second sergeant's chest. "There's a clearing about 1200 yards east, we'll head there and call in a chopper. You've got your radio, right Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir." The Marine nodded. Nate and the one, less wounded Marine got to their feet and began to carry the other east toward the clearing. "Will he be okay, sir?"

"I don't know, Marine." Nate answered. "Keep pressure on his chest and call in the Huey. LaRue will be on the move by now."

"What makes you so sure, sir?" The Marine looked to his senior officer.

"I hit him, Sergeant." Nate cleared and checked his weapon. "He's bleeding which means that a bloodhound could track him without any serious difficulty. A Marine Corps sniper with 87 confirmed kills is a lot more dangerous than some inbred dog. I know where he was and I know he'll have to keep moving. I was planning to bring him in at nightfall, I may be able to bring him in earlier now. Give my regards to Colonel MacKenzie when you get back to the store."

"Colonel who, sir?" The Marine was suspicious.

"You'll know, Sergeant." Nate gave him a pat on the back and headed back into the brush. He moved back toward the wooded area where the two Marines had been shot. He walked up to the stump where he'd seen the gun barrel before and he saw a decent sized pool of red blood. He knelt down and scanned the area for the direction of the trail of blood. He figured that LaRue would head for the creek bed, wash the wound out and bandage it. Nate stalked the brush toward the creek bed, keeping the blood trail in his peripheral vision as long as he could. He saw the trail stop about fifteen feet from the creek bed where a small pool of blood stagnated. "Clever boy." Nate comically mused. LaRue was starting to think like a sniper, more importantly he was thinking like prey. The longer he stayed in one place, the more likely he would endanger himself. Nate headed toward the pool of blood cautiously, aware that it could be a trap. His eyes carefully scanned the area for any signs of another presence. He crouched down toward the pool and found some errant camouflage BDU threads. The tourniquet had obviously been applied to stop the bleeding. He could only go further up the ridge from here, closer to where he would have to spend the night.

1711 ZULU

QUANTICO MCB

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

"Why hasn't there been any word from the Marines, sir?" Mac looked to Colonel Rypien.

"Because they are attempting to dig out a sniper, or at least a wannabe sniper who has gone to ground, Colonel." Rypien turned on Mac. "That's a tough enough task for them without having the squawk box ringing in their ears every few seconds. Besides, we just heard from two wounded Marines for whom a bird is on the way."

"Sir, your men, as of yet only have orders to capture Corporal LaRue, not to kill him." Sturgis jumped in.

"Commander, my men have authorization to do anything they want to bring him in. I will not be bringing charges against any man who feels the need to kill Corporal LaRue is he fires upon them." The Colonel went out to the helipad to greet the chopper. "As the convening authority, I would have to be the one to bring charges, wouldn't I, Commander?"

"Yes, sir, that's technically true." Sturgis wavered as he ducked under the rotating blades of the Huey.

"Lieutenant Chen!" The Colonel hollered for his aid. "Get this man into the base hospital." Chen and two other Marines carried the wounded Sergeant toward a waiting stretcher. "Are you wounded as well, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir. I've got a 7.52 lodged in my hip but the Major's still up there hunting LaRue, sir." The Sergeant came to attention.

"The Major?" Mac questioned intently.

"Yes, ma'am. Major Ross is hot on the trail. He believes he should have Corporal LaRue in custody by nightfall, sir." The Sergeant returned his focus to his CO.

"I applaud his enthusiasm but I also hope he ups his timetable." Colonel Rypien chomped his cigar a little harder.

"Sergeant, is the Major wounded?" Mac questioned.

"You don't have to worry about that, ma'am." The Marine smiled.

"And why's that, Sergeant?" Mac pressed.

"Because you can't hurt a ghost, ma'am. And in those woods, that's what he might as well be." The Sergeant answered. "Are you Colonel MacKenzie, ma'am?"

"How did you know, Sergeant?" Mac looked puzzled.

"The Major said I would, ma'am. He also conveyed his regards." There was a knowing smile on the Sergeant's face.

"Dismissed, Sergeant." Colonel Rypien waved him off. "Listen to me, Colonel, I don't care if that is your boyfriend up on that ridge, he's a Marine, he's trained for this and he seems to have the situation well in hand."

"Which may be true, Colonel but you still haven't established rules of engagement for engaging Corporal LaRue and in fact, Colonel, being as the Corporal already appears to be seriously mentally disturbed, your actions may be seen to be exacerbating an already tenuous situation." Mac countered.

"Listen to me, Colonel MacKenzie, I've got one dead Marine already and two wounded ones. My orders are for my men to get Corporal LaRue out of those woods by whatever means they deem necessary, at this point I would even include deadly force in that." The Colonel jerked the cigar out from between his teeth. "Good enough for JAG?"

"I don't know if it's good enough, but it sure is clear enough." Mac came to attention and fired off a salute. Sturgis pulled her aside as they headed away from the helicopter.

"Mac, the last thing we need right now is to get into a contest of whose authority takes precedent with the Colonel because we're on his base and he will win that contest." Sturgis argued. "So far, the Colonel has acted within the parameters outlined for command response to such a scenario. We're just going to deal with that, JAG does not get to tell the Colonel how to use his Marines."

"Even if he becomes responsible for getting some of them killed?" Mac inquired.

"Hopefully, Major Ross is a good enough sniper to prevent that from happening." Sturgis led the two of them back toward the communications centre to monitor the radio transmissions.

2356 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

Harm and Keeter were keeping their eyes on the situation unfolding on their television screen. It seemed like every major news outlet had found some way to interrupt their regularly scheduled programming in order to cover the stand off at Quantico. It was captivating television to be sure, CNN was covering it like some kind of Jerry Bruckheimer special. Harm figured that Colonel Rypien was right to keep the cameras off the base. The last thing he likely wanted was a bunch of Marines second guessing themselves with the trained eye of a camera on them. That hadn't stopped the television news helicopters from circling the airspace over the base hoping to get some kind of passing look at the action below.

"Good luck to them." Keeter laughed. "Marine ghillie suits are designed to make a sniper tough to spot from five feet away much less fifty or five hundred."

"I hope Mac's okay." Harm whispered under his breath and Keeter looked at him curiously. "I just mean, if a person I was involved with was up in the woods with a crazy man with a high powered rifle, I'd be kind of worried.

"Yeah, that's what you meant, Hammer." Keeter scoffed. "As I understand it, Corporal LaRue ought to be the one who's worried. Can you think of anyone you would less like to have hunting you than the Major?"

"A Navy SEAL team?" Harm offered flippantly.

"Well, that's true enough I suppose." Keeter turned toward the window. "You tracked a Gunnery Sergeant at Quantico, something like this a few years back, didn't you?"

"That was different, I didn't think the Gunny was going to kill anyone that day, Corporal LaRue has already shot two people. The Major is going to have to be doubly careful to avoid having a grapefruit sized exit wound left in his skull." Harm sipped at a mug of coffee. "About this morning's exercise, Jack. You rode the Saints a little hard, didn't you?"

"Harm, you know that it's one thing to be a Navy pilot, it's a hell of an honour but it's something else to be a Top Gun grad. I've got to keep the Saints motivated so that the challenge for the recruits is as stiff as possible. It's the only way they'll be any better by the time they graduate." Keeter shook his head. "They were good this morning."

"I'll say." Harm expanded Keeter's thought. "Priest has to be one of, if not the best pilot I have ever seen up close."

"Even better than Luke?" Keeter pointed a question. Both of them had known Luke Pendry at flight school, Luke was the best pilot that any of them had ever flown with until APTERN ended his career very prematurely. There was some room for comparison between Pendry and Priest, Harm concluded that Priest likely had more natural talent but Luke had the kind of attitude that allowed him to pull of more high risk moves.

"He's probably as good as Luke, but he's not as good as the CAG." Harm nodded, sufficiently confident in his evaluation.

"Well, I'm sure we'll see." Keeter headed toward the door. "I gotta run a seminar in the ready room, permission to be dismissed, sir?"

"Permission granted, Commander Keeter." Harm threw him a salute and Keeter disappeared through the door.

0011 ZULU

MCB QUANTICO

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

Night had fallen on the Quantico woods. Near the top of the ridge, Nate lay in wait hidden in a hollow under a creek-bed. It wasn't the kind of place you'd want to spend the night, the conditions were very conducive to things like pneumonia, especially at this time of the year. In his ghillie suit, he'd just look like a bit of mossy undergrowth on the hull side of an oak. A night vision scope and incredible focus was the only thing standing between Nate Ross and the end of this hellish day. He scanned the area, the green back drop of the scope lighting everything in range and then he saw it. What looked like a moving shrub headed for the old abandoned bear caves near the top of the ridge.

Nate paced his heartbeats, making sure to find the gap between the two. He'd killed eighty-seven men with this gun and tonight, he could easily snuff him out. He could chalk up number eighty-eight and Colonel Rypien wouldn't even dress him down about it, hell he'd probably pin a medal on his chest. Nate took aim and fixed in on a non lethal shot. He adjusted for the breeze and the distance before firing. In his scope, a few millimeters was the difference between a six foot hole and a really bad scar. Nate squeezed the trigger and within nanoseconds, the bullet had lodged itself in Corporal LaRue's gut. Nate slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew out his knife and service side arm along with the few yards of rope that he'd procured from the quartermaster.

Nate kept himself hidden until he was within three feet of Corporal LaRue. He drew back the hammer on his Beretta. "Don't even think about reaching for it, LaRue, I'll cripple you." Nate warned and the Corporal raised his arms into the air. Nate tied the Corporal's behind his back. "Corporal LaRue, I'm taking you into my custody, you will be turned over to the Military Police once we return to the base, they'll read you your rights." Nate dragged the Marine behind him as they started down the winding path that would eventually lead them back down to the target range where they had started their day. Nate was looking forward to getting out of this damn ghillie suit and indulging himself in a long shower. He was looking forward to powering down a mind that had been running double time all day. He heard a faint scratching noise in the foreground. It sound like someone was trying to speak but unable to catch their breath. He focused his eyes, he needed to pick up the slightest movement, about 500 yards ahead, along the left side of the path there looked to be a dog or fox or something writhing about on the ground in obvious discomfort.

As Nate dragged Corporal LaRue along with him, the object became larger and larger. When they got there and Nate looked down, he saw Lieutenant Maxwell fighting furiously to stay alive even with two stab marks in his lower chest cavity. "Lieutenant, can you speak?" Nate questioned.

"Not ...well......sir." The young Marine croaked out. Nate knelt down, took the rope and tied one end about his belt to prevent Corporal LaRue from escaping before, tearing off his pant leg at the knee.

"Alright, Lieutenant, this is gonna hurt like a bitch, but stay with me, Marine, alright?" Nate coached. He took the pant leg and gently plugged the stab wounds with it before cutting off some excess rope and tying them down. "Can you walk, Lieutenant?" Nate waited for the officer's response and he got a shaking head in refusal. Nate nodded in understanding, crouched down and picked the Marine up in a fireman's carry over his shoulders. "Corporal LaRue!" Nate got the attention of his prisoner. "If you try and run or do anything to cause me to drop this Marine, I will cut your tongue and other appendages off and leave them out here for the bears and wolves, understand?" The terrified young Marine nodded comprehension. So, Nate carried one Marine on his back and dragged a disgraced one down the path back to the base.

Back at the base, Mac and Sturgis were growing impatient. "Why haven't we heard anything?" Mac looked to her new partner. He said he should be back in by nightfall. But night had fallen and she knew that the longer this went on, the worse it got for the Marines tracking LaRue.

"I don't know, Mac." Sturgis shook his head. All the Marines had come back in except for Major Ross and Lieutenant Maxwell. The Colonel had his men waiting by a radio hoping for something. Nate hadn't taken a box with him on his track, so if they were going to see him again tonight, it would be because he hiked back in.

"Good news, JAG." Colonel Rypien came out, new cigar stuck jauntily between his teeth. "Huey doing its last run of the night along the path. Saw two runners coming back in, one held captive, the other carrying some kind of big pack. He figures they're less than a mile out." The Colonel watched a smile form on Mac's face. "Looks like I didn't need those rules of engagement, Colonel MacKenzie."

"I guess not, Colonel." Mac tried to hide her smile.

"Do they know if the Marine leading the captive back in is Major Ross, Colonel?" Sturgis interrupted the lightening mood.

"No way that they could." The Colonel answered.

"It's him." Mac nodded slowly.. The three of them stood out on the crow's nest overlooking the range, watching a little fog gather as the breeze and the dew cloaked the field.

"Why are you so sure that it's Major Ross, Colonel?" Colonel Rypien dug into his cigar.

"Sometimes you just know, Colonel." Mac replied cryptically.

"This another one of those famous MacKenzie visions?" Sturgis chuckled lightly.

"I'll never tell." Mac pursed her lips. Mac's eyes focused off into the distance, she saw the mist move and start to dissipate between the two birch trees. She swore the night got darker right there. A shadow began to form, it got bigger and closer slowly. Mac climbed down off the crow's nest, the Colonel and Sturgis in tow.

Colonel Rypien called in on his radio. "Get me a bus and the ."

"Aye, sir." The radio echoed back. The amorphous shadow took form and colour. First, Corporal LaRue became visible, then the rope that held him captive. Finally, the Marines who were on the honourable side of the day's events.

"Major Ross reporting, sir." Nate sounded exhausted and dehydrated. "Lieutenant Maxwell is injured sir, two knife wounds in the chest."

"A bus is on the way, Major." Colonel Rypien announced to the Marine Major. Within seconds, a Humvee with a medic and a couple members of the Military Police appeared on the range. They took Corporal LaRue into custody and the medic tended to Lieutenant Maxwell on the back of the Humvee. "Well damn, Major, you're almost two hours behind time."

"Sorry, sir." Nate came to attention and fixed a salute. "Figured you'd rather have the mission behind time and complete than on time and incomplete, sir."

"You're lucky I'm results oriented, Major." Colonel Rypien gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Alright, take your suit back to your locked and you've got permission to secure."

"Thank you, sir." Nate fired off his salute and headed for the lockers.

"And Major!" The Colonel called after him. "Take tomorrow, you'll finish the week on Friday instead of the Thursday."

"Aye aye, sir." Nate grinned and continued off toward the lockers with Mac alongside.

"Why didn't you take a radio?" Mac pushed him.

"Because I didn't want to get shot at." Nate retorted. "I saved Marines today, Colonel and I got you involved to make sure Corporal LaRue faced a jury for his crimes instead of the wrong end of my scope."

"You got me involved so you could show off." Mac rebuffed. She wasn't really pissed off at him, she was actually pretty proud but she had just been worried for so long that day, she'd ridden an emotional razor's edge since before noon and she wanted a little emotional empathy, especially from her boyfriend. He looked her down, he wasn't going to fight with her, not after the day he'd had. He just shook his head and kept marching on toward the lockers. If she'd wanted an excuse to be mad at him, to fight with him or even an excuse to push him away, here it was. But she didn't. "Nate, wait!"

He stopped and looked back. She caught up with him. "Listen, Mac, I didn't mean to do you any ill will. I just, I just wanted to make sure that this went down the way it's supposed to. That nobody who didn't have to die did. You did that by keeping the Colonel in check, I did that by tracking LaRue. Whether you believe it or not, whether it feels like it or not, today was a good day." He kissed the top of her head.

"You weren't trying to be patronizing with that kiss on top of my head?" She questioned.

"I just didn't want to get any of my paint on that gorgeous face." His white teeth shone against the black, brown and olive paint on his face. "Now, let me get this suit off and catch a few minutes in the rain room."

"I don't know, that ghillie suit's kind of sexy." Mac toyed with a coy smile.

"If I gotta make another one of these tonight, Mac, I may sleep for a week." He was fighting exhaustion. "You gonna drive me home? Let Sturgis take the car back to JAG?"

"You're on, Marine." She nodded to him. "But you take longer than eleven minutes in the rain room and I'm coming in after you."

"If you're expecting the typical reaction to that invitation you've underestimated my level of exhaustion." He pushed a smile across his cheeks. "I'll see ya in ten minutes, Mac."


	4. Johnny 99

1315 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"Senior staff, reporting as ordered, sir." Mac announced as she walked into the office along with Sturgis, Bud and Manetti.

"At ease." The Admiral waved them down. "As you're all no doubt aware, the court martial of Corporal LaRue is due to start this week. Colonel MacKenzie, as the investigating officer you'll prosecute. Lieutenant Roberts, you'll defend."

"Request a change of venue, sir." Bud immediately fired off.

"Without even consulting with your client, Lieutenant?" The Admiral looked puzzled.

"Sir, with the media exposure given this case in the D.C. Area, I believe it is impossible for my client to get a fair hearing here." Bud reasoned.

"Feel free to take that to Colonel Blakely but I can't grant that and I doubt that the convening authority, Colonel Rypien would grant it." Admiral Chegwidden theorized. "Colonel would you like to serve the Lieutenant with the charges."

"Yes, sir." Mac reached into a file and produced a list. "Your client is charged with two counts of Article 118 for Lance Corporal Burns and Sergeant Grange. Two counts of attempted murder under Article 80; one count of Article 90 for assaulting a superior commissioned officer and two counts under Article 91 for insubordinate conduct toward a superior non-commissioned officer." She finished reading off the list of charges.

"Are the murder charges capital, ma'am?" Bud hesitated.

"They are, Lieutenant." Mac affirmed.

"Now that we have that out of the way, since three of you are due in Colonel Blakely's courtroom tomorrow, one assumes you'd like to prepare for it." The Admiral stared over his spectacles.

"Me as well, sir?" Commander Turner couldn't remember his name being mentioned.

"Yes, Commander, as you aided Colonel MacKenzie in the investigation, you will be sitting second chair for the Colonel." Admiral Chegwidden shook his head. "You're all dismissed."

"Aye, sir." Mac answered for the other officers. JAG senior staffers exited the Admirals office. "Rough draw, Bud."

"Why is that, ma'am?" Bud looked up at opposing counsel.

"Bud, I was the investigating officer on this case. The amount of evidence against your client is overwhelming." Mac tried to empathize.

"You and Captain Rabb taught me to never back down from the tough ones, ma'am." Bud smiled as he ducked into his office. Mac and Sturgis stepped into her office.

"You really think this conviction is a slam dunk?" Sturgis questioned, shutting the door behind him.

"Sturgis, we have an incredible amount of physical evidence and the word of two highly decorated Marine Corps officers, along with two of the four victims." Mac threw herself down in her chair. "Once the members get a look at the records of Major Ross and Colonel Rypien this game is over. They don't even have to like the Colonel they just have to trust him."

"On the subject of highly decorated Colonels, Senator Latham just got a look at the latest promotions list." Sturgis cleared his throat and proceeded tepidly. "The Major's on it."

"Sturgis, I have to ask, only because I find it funny, but when you're alone with Bobbi, do you call her Senator Latham?" Mac chortled and Sturgis laughed boisterously. "Nate deserves the promotion after what he did. Colonel Rypien even put him in for the Legion of Merit. Hope they award it to him before we need him to testify. Every extra ribbon on that chest will help his credibility with the members."

"Alright, Colonel, let's dive into the case then." Sturgis clapped his hands together and opened a file.

0415 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

Harm and Keeter sat on Keeter's porch smoking a couple Cohibas. "If you don't mind my saying so, Captain." Keeter exhaled. "I think you've lost some of your swagger, Hammer."

"You saying I'm off my game, Commander?" Harm pulled the cigar from his mouth. "I've started smoking cigars again for the first time in four years."

"Average person quits smoking seven times before they finally succeed." Keeter postulated. "But that wasn't what I meant. You walk with a certain swagger most of the time, Hammer, but lately you've been a pace behind and a few inches under full."

"Yeah, things haven't been the same since I transferred out of JAG back when my program fired up at the Pentagon." Harm shook his head."I got used to being the hot hand, being expected to be the hot hand but without the onus being on me, it's since been tough to find my stride."

"Well, we're counting on you here, Hammer." Keeter took a drink out of a bottle of water. "So now would damn sure be the time to find your swagger, sir."

"You challenging me to get up into an F-5 for tomorrow's exercise, Commander Keeter?" Harm smiled a genuine smile for the first time in a while.

"I am, sir." Keeter challenged.

"Challenge accepted, Commander." Harm chuckled. "But if I take down more bogeys than you, the Saints get to watch while you shine the head."

"What if I out-shoot you, Captain?" Keeter shot back.

"Then I'll buy you a bottle of Jack." Harm stuck the cigar back between his teeth.

"Hardly seems fair." Keeter got up out of his chair and laughed. "But it also sounds like a bet."

"Keeter, on my worst day I could out fly you." Harm retorted with a grin. "But on my worst day, I could out-fly just about anyone, including the entire Air Force."

"What about Priest? Could you out-fly him?" Keeter inquired.

"Now? I don't know. But fresh out of Pensacola I'd have given that kid a hell of a run. Like we said, CAG's only pilot we've ever heard of who could fly like that." Harm looked out at the desert stars.

"I can think of one more aviation legend as big or bigger than the CAG's." Keeter took a hard inhale.

"Who?" Harm questioned, very puzzled by the assessment.

"Hammer Senior." Keeter answered and Harm smiled fondly. "Hell, every Vietnam Vet we've ever flown with has had some kind of story about your dad. They either knew him on the Tico or they knew him on the Hornet."

"You know, Keeter, there are times when I wonder if he'd be happy with the route my Navy career took." Harm bowed his head. "Sounds kind of stupid, I know."

"Damn stupid, couple of DFCs under your belt." Keeter laughed. "Is that what's got you so hung up? You're wondering what your old man would make of you if he were here?"

"Well, shit Keeter, I'm gonna be forty this year, I'm not married, I've got no kids and lately it seems like I'm bouncing around from one billet to the next line a Navy issue pinball." Harm shook his head. "My dad had considerably less time on this earth and I think he did a lot more with it."

"Yeah, well your old man never had to contend with retinal scarring interrupting his flying career, he never had to contend with his Academy sweetheart being killed and he never had to contend with searching for his father until he was well into his thirties. He had the luxury of focusing on his family, you've managed a hell of a Navy career among everything else." Keeter offered.

"Thanks, Keet." Harm gave his old friend a pat on the shoulder. "But I'm still gonna kick your six tomorrow during the flight exercise."

"You're gonna try, sir." Keeter laughed.

"Trying is for Air Force pilots, Keeter." Harm tossed out the butt of his cigar. "Besides, I think my hand's heating up again." He smiled again before ducking into the house.

1650 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The morning had been occupied with selecting the members for the court martial and hearing pre-trial motions. The afternoon would be filled with opening statements and likely the first witness or two for the prosecution's case. The tall Marine Major decked out in his Class A uniform walked into the JAG bullpen. "Can I help you, sir?" Harriet looked at the interloper.

"Lieutenant Sims, it's me." Nate declared.

"Mr. Secretary......I mean Major.......I mean, well what do I call you, sir?" Harriet was befuddled.

"Marines re-activate your commission when you're involved with a court martial, I'm not allowed to return to the State Department until the resolution of the court martial, so for the time being, it's Major Ross." Nate smiled.

"Well, in that case, welcome to JAG, sir." Harriet snapped off a salute and Nate returned it.

"Good to be here, Lieutenant." Nate looked around the bullpen. "I'm supposed to have a quick interview with your husband, where's his office?"

"That way, sir."Harriet pointed toward Bud's office and Nate headed off. He tapped on the door.

"Come in and..."Bud turned toward the door. "Oh I'm sorry, Major, sir." Bud came to attention and fixed a salute.

"At ease, Lieutenant." Nate returned the salute. "What was it you wanted to see me about, Lieutenant?"

"Major, I just had a few questions about the day of the incident." Bud picked up a file off his desk. "It says here that you never met Corporal LaRue before that day at Quantico, is that correct?"

"It is, Lieutenant." Nate nodded.

"And the Corporal went AWOL before you called the roll on the firing line that morning?" Bud continued.

"He did." Nate nodded again.

"Why were you so sure that it was Corporal LaRue in the woods?" Bud focused on the after action report in his file.

"We had gotten word from the supply sergeant that the Corporal had checked out his weapon at 0600 that morning and had requisitioned two dummy mines from the sergeant which he'd received. When my Staff Sergeant discovered Lance Corporal Burns, he found a 7.52 millimeter M40A3 round in him. When I found Sergeants Grange and Farling, I found similar entry wounds in both of them." Nate explained calmly.

"Major, you're far from a weapons expert, how could you tell that the entry wound was from an M40?" Bud pushed a little harder.

"Lieutenant, I've spent nearly twenty years with my own M40, I know what an M40 entry wound looks like." Nate folded his arms in his lap.

"And how are you sure that Corporal LaRue was the one who fired on Sergeants Farling and Grange?" Bud peaked an eyebrow.

"Because I returned fire on the assailant holding down the sergeants, Lieutenant. When I came upon Corporal LaRue, later that night on the ridge, he was wounded in the leg which was where I had been aiming earlier in the day." Nate firmed up his jaw.

"You were more than 400 yards away, firing through heavy brush, under fire hitting a target, visible sections of which couldn't have been larger than the size of a playing card and you hit what you were aiming at?" Bud seemed doubtful.

"Lieutenant, that's a shot I could make at 600, 800 or even 1000 yards. That much I can assure you." Nate was stoic.

"Thank you for your time, Major." Bud nodded.

"Not a problem, Lieutenant." Nate got out of the chair and headed for the door. He walked out into the bullpen, turned sharply right and headed to a familiar office door. He tapped twice on the outside. "Reporting as ordered, ma'am." He called and he got a response from inside.

"Enter." Mac called. Nate opened the door and stepped in.

"Major Ross reporting, ma'am." Nate came to attention and fixed a salute. Mac looked up and smiled. She'd seen him in BDUs, she'd seen him in a ghillie suit and she'd seen him in Marine Mess Dress. But he was made for the Class A uniform. The green draped cleanly and evenly down off his shoulders to his belt. His tie was almost perfectly square in a half Windsor knot. He looked like a recruiting poster and it gave him a kind of military bearing that only Harm and the Admiral could really match. Her eyes fixed on the ribbons on his left chest. He had four and a half rows of ribbons. A bronze star with an oak leaf, indicating a second award, a purple heart with an oak leaf indicating a second award and a silver star. There were unit citations and foreign service awards. Only thing he was missing was a Navy Cross, she smirked, with his knack for trouble it was likely only a matter of time.

Mac got out of her chair and approached him from the side. "Ready for inspection, Major?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am." Nate looked straight forward as Mac circled him. She wore a self-satisfied smile as she eyed him down. "Very nice, Major."

"The Colonel's praise is appreciated, ma'am." Nate replied in a pro forma tone.

"Uniform is perfect, protocol too." Mac swallowed hard. "I could order you to drop and give me twenty."

"The Colonel is enjoying this new dynamic, ma'am?" Nate questioned.

"The Colonel is very much enjoying it, Major." Mac smiled sheepishly. "Major, I expect you to report to my quarters at 1945 Hours tonight for close order drill."

A smile came across the Marine Major's face. "Ma'am, yes ma'am."

"At ease, Major." Mac put a hand on his shoulder. Nate relaxed for a second before grabbing Mac around the waist and pulling her in for a kiss. "I don't recall giving permission for that, Major."

"Good Marine officers take initiative, ma'am." He smiled. "Besides, I figured necking with a junior grade officer would be a bit of a naughty thrill for you."

"Major, that would hardly qualify as necking." Mac gave him a disappointed look before yanking his head down, bringing his lips crashing on to hers. The fire caught the two of them for a few seconds. The tall, lean, Marine combat sniper and war hero, his arms around the sensuous Marine Colonel JAG lawyer, his superior officer. The romantic scene was ignored by those in the bullpen who were tempted to look through the blinds until the CO walked through the bullpen.

"There's no kissing in JAG Ops!" The Admiral commanded.

"Sorry, sir." Both Mac and Nate snapped to with guilt ridden expressions on their face.

SAME TIME

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

There was a ready room briefing before the flight. They were one week into Top Gun training and Harm and Keeter were still trying to see what kind of pilots the Navy had sent them. Morning sorties were air-to-air combat, afternoon exercises were air-to-surface missions. The morning missions were crucial to training the four Air Intercept Controllers that were recruited for this class.

"What's the deck for this exercise, Captain?" A young Lieutenant j.g recruit asked.

"600 feet, Lieutenant." Harm answered.

"Are the F-5s allowed to go below it, sir?" The Lieutenant continued his inquiry.

"Yes, they are." Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Sir, you're leading our F-14s for this exercise, are you allowed to go below the deck, sir?" This young Lieutenant just wouldn't quit.

"Yes, Lieutenant." Harm was getting slightly annoyed. "And before you ask why, Lieutenant, the answer is it's a damn Captain's privilege to violate the rules of his own exercise. The Saints are allowed to go under the deck because it's you all and not them who have to learn to obey the rules of the game, understood?"

The young Lieutenant was sufficiently intimidated. "Aye, sir."

"Because this is an air-to-air exercise, your objective is to eliminate the other side. You will find, should any of you ever experience combat, that you will only rarely be able to take place in troop support runs or in attacks against ground targets without some kind of welcoming party intercepting you in the air." Harm paced the ready room floor. "Yes, MiGs aren't Tomcats, nor are they F-18s. And yes, the best foreign trained pilots will not be as good as you will be once you leave my base. But as of yet, you're not the best either. I'm expecting nothing less than your best, if you go out there and fly at 99 percent and I will bounce you off this base, understood?"

"Yes, sir!" The recruits shouted.

"Good." Harm headed toward the door. "Now get out there, get into your birds and make the US Navy proud." The recruits and the Saints took their helmets in hand and headed for the tarmac. The Plane Captains prepared to launch the planes off the different runways. Two were set to launch the recruits while one was set to launch the Saints. Harm was the first one off the ground into the flight pattern followed by the Top Gun recruits at one end of the airfield while the Saints took to the air at the other end of the field. Rather than going into a holding pattern, the Saints took off for the other end of the Dixie Valley while Harm awaited the rest of the recruits. Once the recruits had all joined the holding pattern, they headed off into Dixie Valley after the Saints.

"Alright, Hammer, come get us." Keeter taunted over the radio.

"Don't make me hurt you, Keeter." Harm replied. Harm headed up to Angels 15 so that he could observe the exercise as opposed to doing the heavy lifting for his recruits. One week in and a few of the recruits were doing better than they had in the first week. A few of the Saints were in the deep stuff. Spartan and Prowler had stayed glued to the deck, which resulted in their being trapped between the valley floor and three recruits behind the stick of their Tomcats. Within a few minutes, and with nowhere to go, Spartan and Prowler had been taken down. But Priest dropped in behind the recruits and zeroed out all three of them with missile lock. "Nice flying, Priest." Harm shook his head in simple awe, this young man was damn good.

"Thank you, sir, but might want to keep your eyes forward." Priest chortled.

"Why's that, Lieutenant?" Harm turned more direct.

"Because I'm coming for you next, sir." Priest responded in kind.

"Is that right, Lieutenant? Than you had better be coming in a lot faster than you were when you came in after those two because you're taking on someone with some fruit salad on his chest, not some flat-top virgins." Harm laughed hard into the radio as he put his Tomcat into a dive down out of the clouds. He pulled a 7-G turn and came in behind Dutch, he locked in on the young Saint with his missile and ended his part in the war game exercise. "You're dead, Dutch."

"If you're willing to head back up with us in three days, sir, you might get to see me rise again." Dutch laughed lightly as he turned hi F-5 backed toward the air station.

"You're gonna need a hell of a lot more than even Priest to complete a miracle like that, Dutch." Harm's laugh was more full-throated this time as he pulled his plane up into the clouds again. Priest and Rattler had knocked off six recruits between them, while Keeter had yet to fix his missile software on a single recruit. That meant Harm was leading in their side-bet by one bogey. Keeter and Rattler were paired off like a couple of MiGs, since they usually flew in pairs under combat conditions. Priest was a lone flyer, an outlier trying to sucker in the eager, willing and green young pilots. Harm was sure that even at the end of six weeks of TOP GUN training, Harm would put fifty bucks that no recruit would be able to get a fix on Priest with missiles or guns. But Harm was no green aviator. Some of these kids thought they were invincible, they didn't recognize real skill when they saw it. They took Priest too lightly but Harm wasn't liable to make the same stupid mistake.

1730 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac had the prosecution's trial strategy all planned out. This afternoon they would get through opening statements and one or two witnesses. She would start with Colonel Rypien and Major Ross. The point of this was to make the best possible impression on the members. If she put the two witnesses with the most distinguished service records on the stand first, she could make a good first impression with the members for her case. But the Major and the Colonel were also the two weakest witnesses. Most of what the Colonel could offer was either borderline hearsay or just a general description of the events on base that day. The Major hadn't witnessed the shooting of Sergeant Farling but he had arrived just seconds later and put a slug into Corporal LaRue before he helped haul Farling back to a chopper. He'd rescued Lieutenant Maxwell whom Corporal LaRue had later maimed. Little about what Major Ross had witnessed could substantiate any of the charges brought against Corporal LaRue. That task would fall to the forensic witnesses, Sergeant Farling and Lieutenant Maxwell.

Mac took her seat as the lead prosecutor next to Sturgis. The noise in the room came to an instant halt when Colonel Blakely entered the room and everyone came to attention. He waved for the attorneys to be seated. The Corporal's plea had been entered that morning and now the trial was to commence. "Colonel MacKenzie, is the government ready to proceed?"

"We are, your honour." Mac affirmed.

" Lieutenant Roberts, is the defence ready to proceed?" Blakely turned on the defence table.

"We are as well, you honour." Bud rose quickly before sinking back into his chair.

"Then we will have opening statements, Colonel MacKenzie?" The judge turned the floor over to the Colonel. Mac rose from her chair and brushed herself off.

"Marines are taught to leave no man behind, they are taught that doing so is a supreme insult to everything that it is to be a Marine. Corporal LaRue not only violated that most sacred trust which bonds one Marine to his unit, he took it a step further and killed two Marines; Sergeant Grange and Lance Corporal Burns. He wounded two other Marines, Sergeant Farling and Lieutenant Maxwell. The government will present witnesses and evidence concluding that this happened beyond all reasonable doubt. You will hear from the officers who monitored the situation and participated in the capture of Corporal LaRue, you will hear from Sergeant Farling and Lieutenant Maxwell who were the unfortunate victims of the Corporal's violence that day and you will hear from forensic experts who will conclusively testify that Corporal LaRue was responsible for the actions which led to the deaths of Sergeant Grange and Lance Corporal Burns and the maiming of Sergeant Farling and Lieutenant Maxwell." Mac paused her stride across the marble floor. "The Corporal committed an act of horrendous hate against his country, against the Marine Corps and against the families of these men, and for that you must find him guilty." When Sarah MacKenzie was on, she was a lawyer only Harmon Rabb could truly rival. Bud had confidence in his own abilities as a lawyer but he didn't like having to take on Mac in a case like this. His client was entitled to the best defence he could give and Bud Roberts would give him nothing less.

"I would give anything to have Lance Corporal Burns and Sergeant Grange here with us today. Their families are faced with a tragedy that many military families are faced with everyday, they have lost a family member. Marine Corps Scout-Snipers do not have a long shelf life, the ones that are unable to get out of what is often times a gruesome and bloody business are often the subject of intense psychological conditions for years to come. The training for Scout-Snipers is so intense that many ring the bell before the end because they simply can't do it. It's a training designed to make a soldier so aware of his surroundings, so able to see threat that he comes to almost expect it around every corner and behind every tree or bush. That was the kind of mental stress Corporal LaRue was subject to. Some Marines have long careers doing what Scout-Snipers are tasked with doing, many don't. It broke Corporal LaRue and it left him in a state of mental disrepair where he identified anything and everything associated with that training as a potential enemy or threat. You will hear medical testimony to that effect. Simply put, Corporal LaRue did not have the mental capacity to form the intent necessary to commit the legal definition of murder and because of _that_ you cannot find him guilty." Bud took a deep breath and time to look each and every member of the panel in the eye. He then returned to his seat.

Damn, Bud Roberts had become one hell of a litigator. Mac allowed herself a momentary smile. "Colonel MacKenzie, you may call your first witness." Colonel Blakely directed from the bench.

"Your honour, the government calls Colonel Gilligan Rypien Sr." Mac announced. The doors at the back of the courtroom swung wide open and the Marine Colonel appeared from between them. His face was no longer hidden behind a chomped cigar and a plume of smoke. Instead, his square jaw and cheeks laden heavy with scar tissue were clearly visible. The Colonel wore a road map of wrinkles from his toes to his brow, complete with permanently grizzled expression. "Do you swear that the testimony you give shall be the whole truth, so help you God?"

"I do." The Colonel said through gritted teeth.

"Be seated, sir." Mac suggested and the Colonel perched himself upon the witness stand. "State your name, rank and current duty station for the court, sir."

"Colonel Gilligan Rypien Sr., Commanding Officer, Marine Corps Base Quantico." The Colonel stated.

"Colonel, what was your role with regard to the situation involving Corporal LaRue?" Mac launched right into her case.

"At 0748, a runner appeared at my office with a message from Major Ross telling me that the body of Lance Corporal Burns had been found dead with a single gunshot wound. The Major, because of his ample years of experience and training identified the wound as that caused by a .752 mm round fired out of a M40A3 Marine Corps issued sniper rifle. From there, I ordered for a bus, had the paramedics take the body into the base hospital and have the round appropriately removed and checked for striation marks." The Colonel folded his hands in his lap.

"Why did you do that, Colonel?" Mac continued.

"SOP, Colonel, we keep striation records from every gun used in scout-sniper training. After the incident at Quantico with Gunnery Sergeant Crockett at Quantico a few years back, it has become base policy to keep as tight a set of reins as humanly possible on the conditions involved in scout-sniper training." The Colonel answered simply.

"What happened after you identified the striation marks as those belonging to Corporal LaRue's weapon?" Mac continued pacing the tile.

"I organized an appropriate exercise to bring Corporal LaRue to the surface, working on the assumption that he had gone to ground in the woods where the body of Lance Corporal Burns had been found." The Colonel answered.

"What did that consist of, Colonel?" Mac tried to stay as far away from objectionable questions as she could. She wanted to keep Bud behind his desk for this witness and establish her rhythm.

"A team of Recon Marines were sent into the woods along with a few scout-sniper tandems. I sent Major Ross in on his own." The Colonel was methodical, bordering on cold.

"Why did you send Major Ross in on his own, Colonel?" This question was as much for Mac's own curiosity as that of the members.

"The Major is a trained sniper, one of the best in the Corps. Giving him a novice scout would hinder him. I needed someone out there who could bring in Corporal LaRue without causing a lot of unnecessary death." The Colonel shook his head slightly.

"One last question, Colonel, did you establish rules of engagement for your men?" Mac set her jaw firm, it was something she wanted to get out of the way so that Bud couldn't lead with it.

"Yes, return fire if fired upon and only bring Corporal LaRue in alive if doing so is practical and possible." The Colonel answered.

"Nothing further, your honour." Mac returned to her chair. Bud rose from his.

"Colonel Rypien, are you a trained scout-sniper?" Bud dove right into his case.

"No, I cut my teeth in the armour." The Colonel answered proudly.

"Can you describe a process known as 'weeding', sir?" Bud moved toward the witness stand.

"As far as I understand it, it's a process undertaken by certain instructors such as Force Recon, Scout-Snipers or even Navy SEALs to remove prospective weak links from their applicants." The Colonel answered, again with a methodical precision.

"Colonel did you order the previous scout-sniper instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Conway to weed out Corporal LaRue?" Bud questioned out of the blue.

"Objection, relevance." Mac questioned.

"Goes to my client's state of mind, your honour." Bud shot back quickly.

"The Colonel is not a psychiatrist and cannot speak to state of mind." Mac quickly retorted.

"Objection overruled, Colonel. Proceed, Lieutenant." Blakely intervened.

"I gave no such order to Gunner Conway but he and I did have discussions about Corporal LaRue's performance on the range tests as well as perceived mental toughness issues the Corporal could sometimes have." The Colonel seemed to resent Bud's questioning.

"But you never directed him to place undue stress on Corporal LaRue?" Bud continued.

"I never issued such an order." The Colonel affirmed.

"The day of the incident, Gunny Conway was down sick with food poisoning and you called in Major Ross, correct?" Bud shifted to another topic.

"That is correct." The Colonel punctuated his statement with a nod.

"Did you issue any similar order to Major Ross when you met with him before duty that morning?" Bud moved toward the members.

"I wouldn't have had to." The Colonel answered.

"Why not?" Bud sounded surprised.

"Because the Major has over 40 combat missions on his record and 87 confirmed kills. He knows when someone won't cut it and he would have had them out of that class within hours." The Colonel was confident.

"Returning to testimony you gave under direct examination, you stated that you gave orders to bring Corporal LaRue in alive only if practical and possible. Is it safe to say that with Marines trained to track and kill on his trail and orders to disregard his safety in place, Corporal LaRue rightly feared for his life?"

"Objection, argumentative and the Colonel has no possible way of knowing what Corporal LaRue was thinking." Mac launched out of her chair.

"The Colonel has you this time, Lieutenant." Colonel Blakely nodded. "Objection sustained."

"Nothing further, your honour." Bud returned to his seat feeling that he had accomplished what he had set out to do.

"You may stand down, Colonel Rypien." Blakely instructed. "Colonel MacKenzie, you may call your next witness."

"The government calls Major Nathan Ross to the stand." Mac announced and again the doors at the back of the courtroom swung open. Nate Ross had been trained to be a Marine Corps officer since he was two years old. He carried himself like a textbook Marine, walked like he was on a parade ground, his gate was long, his chest was forced out and he drew eyes to him. "Major, raise your hand. Do you swear that the testimony you give shall be the whole truth so help you God?"

"I do." Nate affirmed.

"Be seated, Major." Mac successfully stifled a smile. "State your current name, rank and duty station for the record, Major."

"Major Nathan Ross, temporarily assigned to the Marine Corps Scout-Sniper training facility at Marine Corps Base Quantico." Nate rested his elbows on the rails of the witness stand.

"Major, how long have you been a Scout-Sniper?"

"Since 1986, Ma'am. Seventeen years." Nate affirmed with a kind of aw shucks smirk.

"Colonel Rypien testified earlier that you've served on over 40 combat missions, is that correct?" Mac was starting slowly.

"It is, my last combat mission was a classified black op in January of 1992." Nate looked over Mac's shoulder to the back of the courtroom.

"Why were you attached to MCB Quantico for your reserve training?" Mac felt a little sweat accumulate on her fingertips.

"Since I've been working in Washington I've been able to keep up my reserve hours often as an instructor at scout-sniper school through an arrangement that I've worked out with Colonel Rypien and before Colonel Rypien, Colonels Gordon and Garcia as the Commanding Officers at Quantico." Nate licked his lips. He'd sat in front of Congressional committees with less tension than this.

"Tell me, Major, what happened on the morning in question?" Mac stopped in front of the witness stand.

"I arrived for duty at Quantico at 0640 and reported to Colonel Rypien. After reporting to the Colonel, I organized the morning drills and gathered the necessary materials and waited for my recruits along the firing line." Nate narrowed his eyes slightly. "Around 0736 a dummy mine went off in the woods behind the firing range, I sent my senior NCO and a recruit to find out what had transpired and that's when they discovered the body of Lance Corporal Burns."

"What happened then, Major?" Mac continued.

"I sent a runner for Colonel Rypien to initiate the procedures for bringing in a Marine gone rogue. The Colonel went to lengths to confirm that it was Corporal LaRue we were looking for, afterward I got the scout-sniper recruits ready to dig out Corporal LaRue from the woods." Nate ran a hand over his chin.

"Colonel Rypien testified earlier that you were sent in without a scout, were you able to get a fix on the Corporal without a spotter?" Mac wanted to move on to the incident with Grange and Farling.

"Yes, I heard a shot a few hundred yards and went to investigate, I found Sergeants Grange and Farling hidden, both wounded. I set up a free hand snap shot and pegged Corporal LaRue in the leg from about four hundred yards off." Nate answered.

"Was it your intention to kill Corporal LaRue with that shot?" Mac pressed.

"Ma'am if I had intended to kill Corporal LaRue at any point that day, he'd be dead." Nate answered simply.

"I have nothing further for this witness, your honour." Mac headed back to the prosecution table. Bud rose from behind the defense table.

"You had no intent to kill Corporal LaRue when you went into the woods that day, Major?" Bud got right to the point.

"As I said, Lieutenant, had I any intent to kill the Corporal he would be dead." Nate repeated himself.

"Major, you've won the Marine Corps Wimbledon Cup a few times haven't you?" Bud switched gears.

"Twice, I was runner up to Gunnery Sergeant Ray Crockett for three years prior." Nate answered.

"As we've heard, over 40 missions and 87 confirmed kills. You have a silver star for your actions in Iraqi Occupied Kuwait, do you not?" Bud was confusing Mac. Stressing Nate's record and reputation didn't really help his client.

"Yes." Nate answered hesitantly.

"So, when you hunted Corporal LaRue in the woods that day, without him knowing that you weren't intent on killing him, he could have felt understandably threatened, could he not?" Bud postured slightly.

"It's possible, Lieutenant but if the Corporal had the kind of knowledge of my record and skills as you attribute to him, he would have known after I shot him in the leg that my intent was not to kill him." Nate got a bit of his ire up, knowing where Bud was taking this.

"Major, did you witness Corporal LaRue kill Lance Corporal Burns or Sergeant Grange or wound Sergeant Farling or Lieutenant Maxwell." Bud decided to wrap up his questioning rather than get into a sparring match with the Major.

"I didn't see the bullets or knife hit those people, no Lieutenant. But I came upon Sergeants Grange and Farling within seconds of their being shot and I know what a .752 millimeter entry wound looks like." Nate jibed right back.

"On spec, you can tell that was an entry wound from a Marine Corps issued sniper rifle?" Bud pressed.

"Yes, I can." Nate nodded quickly.

"But how can you be sure, Major, after all you've been a weekend warrior, a part-time Marine, safe behind a Washington desk for the last decade?" Bud really reeled up and swung that punch.

"Objection, argumentative and badgering the witness!" Mac stated indignantly.

"Objection sustai-" Colonel Blakely was about to say when Mac cut him off.

"No, I want to answer." Nate almost growled. "You want to know how I can be sure, Lieutenant? I see those same entry wounds in my sleep. I've confirmed 87 kills in my years as a Marine Corps sniper, I've killed male soldiers, female soldiers, young men being used as terrorists and snipers in bombed out buildings. I can't close my eyes without seeing that entry wound. That's why I recognized it when I saw it on Sergeants Grange and Farling. Maybe I've been a "weekend warrior" for the last decade but that's because when I was on active duty, I was among the best the Corps had to offer. It's reprehensible to me what Corporal LaRue did that day, he betrayed his fellow Marines but I have no doubt that it was him."

Bud stood shocked. He hadn't meant to provoke the Major so and his aggressiveness had turned on him as a strategy. "Nothing further, your honour." Bud turned back toward the defence table.

SAME TIME

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

Keeter and Harm were tied at one as the exercise neared the end of the time allotment. Rattler, Priest and Keeter were still alive among the Saints while only one recruit was flying alongside Harm in the Tomcats. Keeter was skimming the deck when the last recruit dropped in behind him. Keeter swung back and forth trying to shake the younger pilot from his six. "Rattler, I've got a tail, want to help me out?" Keeter called to his fellow Saint.

"On it, CAG." Commander Morales dropped out of the clouds, gunned his afterburners and fell in behind the F-14 on Keeter's tail. The F-14 locked on to Keeter and eliminated him only seconds before Rattler could eliminate the recruit. That left Harm up in the sky with only Rattler and Priest as Keeter and the last recruit headed back toward the Air Station. Harm watched the action and curled into the valley behind Rattler and he locked on to him.

"Bang, bang, your dead, Rattler." Harm taunted humourously.

"Got me, sir." Rattler laughed and turned back toward Fightertown.

"Just you and me now, sir." Priest's voice came out of the radio.

"Yeah, come and get me, Priest." Harm jousted with the young pilot. Harm had a known fondness for Lieutenant Fanelli. The kid was a natural, everything the Academy trained an officer to be and everything that Pensacola trained a pilot to be. Harm pulled up out of the valley to Angels 15. He moved away from Dixie run over into the Lahontan sector, looking for Priest. "Come out, come out wherever you are?" Harm chanted into the microphone as his eyes scanned the skies.

Harm looked down into the Lahontan run where he saw Priest about two hundred feet below the deck. Harm dropped out the sky after Priest trying to slide in behind the younger aviator. Harm came down below the deck, right in behind Priest. "I have you now, young Skywalker." Harm laughed in a false menacing tone.

"Think again, Hammer." Priest jousted, inverted his F-5 and put her into a steep negative-G pull-up followed by a roll into wings-level flight and a 7-G hook right. Harm just shook his head with his mouth agape. Goddamn, this kid could fly. Harm had to execute a 9-G hook just to catch up to Priest. He got in behind the young flyer again, this time without all the announcement and fanfare. He caught him with a simple phoenix missile lock and eliminated him from the exercise. "Damn!" Priest shook his head as he turned back home.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Priest, that was some phenomenal damn flying." Harm shook his head. "I'd take you on my wing anyday."

"Just not good enough to beat you right, skipper?" Priest was still shaking his head.

"Very few are, Lieutenant." Harm stuck to Priest's wing as they made their approach into Fallon. "Look at it this way, Commander Keeter lost his little wager with me, so he's on head scrubbing detail tonight."

"That is some consolation, sir." Priest laughed loudly as he headed toward one runway while Harm went for another. He got the Tomcat on the ground and the Plane Captains got her back into the hangar.

"Damn it, Hammer, you've still got it after all these years." Keeter laughed and smiled as he walked over.

"Not sure if I could say the same, Keet, you might need to go up with the recruits for a refresher course." Harm gave his old friend a pat on the shoulder. "Nah, I'm just grinding your gears. I'll get you that toothbrush so you can scrub the head though."

"Gee, thanks, sir." Keeter rolled his eyes.

"I have only ever seen Admiral Boone pull a move like Priest did." Harm ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "Almost makes me think he's wasting his talents here at Fightertown, he'd almost be better for the Navy if he were flying off a flat-top."

"He's training other pilots here. He's good but we could either have one pilot as good as he is out in the fleet or have him here training a few dozen pilots to be almost as good as he is." Keeter tried to shake the sweat out of his hair.

"Don't know if he'll help us train them that well." Harm laughed.

"Well, shit Hammer, you're the one who shot him down, with your leadership and his skills we might be able to churn out some good damn pilots." Keeter yawned as they ducked into the ready room again.

"Sucking up isn't going to get you out of head duty, Keeter. I'll have the supply sergeant fix you up with a brand spanking new Navy issue toothbrush before you're ready to secure for the day." Harm gave Keeter a quick punch to the shoulder before taking his place in front of the class of recruits. "Not bad today, recruits. Some of you even downed instructors. This class might not be without saving. We'll see how you do this afternoon in the air-to-surface exercise before I make that particular assessment though. For now, Lieutenant Commander Rosales will update you on the latest avionics systems upgrades and you'll get a go in the galley before we hit the sky again." Harm headed for the door that led to the office hallways. "Commander Rosales." Harm nodded to Rattler who took over the room.

1610 ZULU, NEXT FRIDAY

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

It had been a long and trying court martial. Bud had made it a closer case than Mac had ever thought possible. Were the physical evidence against him not so overwhelming, Corporal LaRue might actually have had a chance at being acquitted. Mac's examination of the forensic expert on Wednesday had really been the clincher. The members were back in 45 minutes. Bud and his client rose behind the defence table. Nate sat in the gallery behind the prosecution table. "First Sergeant Masterson, have the members reached a verdict?" Colonel Blakely questioned from the bench.

"We have, your honour." The ranking member of the panel affirmed.

"What say you?" Colonel Blakely gruffly questioned.

"On the two counts under Article 118, Murder, we find the defendant guilty. On the two counts under Article 80, Attempted Murder, we find the defendant guilty. On the count under Article 90, assaulting a superior commissioned officer, we find the defendant guilty. On the count under Article 91, insubordinate conduct toward a superior non-commissioned officer, we find the defendant guilty." The First Sergeant concluded the reading of the verdict.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes your service. You have the thanks of the Court. We will hear causes for extenuation and mitigation this afternoon at sentencing at 1400." Colonel Blakely looked up at his court. "Court martial is adjourned." He banged his gavel and with that, a collective exhale passed through the room. Nate got up behind the defence table and watched the MP's take LaRue into custody.

"Congratulations, Mac." Nate reached over the barricade and gave her a hug. "You were something else. Congratulations, Commander Turner."

"Thank you, Major." Sturgis shook the Marine's hand. Sturgis and Mac got out from behind the prosecution table and into the gallery. Bud followed them in tow.

"Major, sir, I just wanted to apologize for coming after you on the witness stand." Bud scrambled toward Nate. Major Ross stopped.

"Nothing to apologize for, Lieutenant, you're a man of considerable character, you were tasked with giving the Corporal the best defence available and you left no stone unturned in doing so. Be proud of what you did." Nate shook Bud's hand.

"For the record, sir, I would never ever belittle the active or reserve duty service of another officer." Bud completed his apology.

"I trust you, Lieutenant." Nate smiled fondly. "If it's okay with the Colonel, why don't you and your wife join Mac and I for lunch?"

"Ma'am?" Bud turned to Mac who nodded approvingly. He was immediately less tense. "I'll check with Harriet." The group of four stood in the elevator waiting for it to open at JAG Ops. The doors slid open and they walked out into the bullpen together.

"Major Ross!" Admiral Chegwidden called from his outer office. "You're out of uniform!" Nate checked himself and then was struck with a puzzled feeling. The Admiral walked over and unscrewed the Major's gold oak leaves before presenting him with a new pair of silver ones. He administered the oath quickly in front of the bullpen and Nate affirmed it "Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Thank you, sir." Nate went to shake the Admiral's hand but AJ shook his head.

"We're not done." The older SEAL stated plainly. "On the recommendation of Colonel Rypien and as affirmed by the Secretary of the Navy, Secretary of Defence and Commandant of the Marine Corps, for his actions on 27 March 2003, wherein Major Ross did rescue Sergeant Jason Farling and Lieutenant Brent Maxwell after both had been wounded and in the case of Lieutenant Maxwell did carry him five miles back to the base through heavy bush while maintaining custody over a captured prisoner. Lieutenant Colonel Nathan Ross is to be presented with the Legion of Merit." AJ opened a rectangular velvet box and pinned the medal on Nate who had come to attention. "Congratulations again, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Thank you, sir." Nate smiled widely.

"Now you can shake my hand." AJ joked and Nate shook his hand. "And as I once told then Commander Rabb, since your mother isn't present and I'm damn sure not willing, the Colonel will do the honours. Mac?" Mac leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Congratulations, honey." She whispered.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He whispered back.

"Alright, everyone back to work!" The Admiral ordered.

"Congratulations, sir." Bud walked over with Harriet.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Nate shook Bud's hand.

"Now, what's say we head to lunch, Colonel?" Mac stressed his new rank. "Your Marine is hungry and deserving of a celebratory meal for her big win."


	5. The Price You Pay

6 WEEKS LATER...

The Top Gun class was nearing its completion. It was easy to tell at this point who was good enough and who wasn't. Who had the chops and who didn't. More than seven weeks into his new duty station and Harm was getting a pretty good handle on who his instructors were. Dutch was bound for duty either as an Air Boss or as a desk jockey at the Pentagon. Spartan and Prowler were both natural CAGs, somewhere down the line. The kind of guys that would peak when they got their eagles, spend ten or fifteen years with the salt spray in their face and using jet fuel as cologne. Rattler had the skills and the patience to be a commanding officer. He had the skills to be a top notch aviator but he was good at keeping his junior officers in line.

Last, there was Keeter and Priest. Keeter was now and always would be Keeter. It was hard to see Keeter every landing a Tomcat on a carrier again. He'd work out of Pensacola or Fightertown or Pax River and do black ops for the CIA. He could see Keeter moving into Navy Intel once he got his Eagles and then staking out an office at the Pentagon. Priest was never going to reach his potential in this man's Navy as an instructor at Fightertown, Harm needed to get that young man back on to a carrier as quickly as he could.

Harm walked the corridors and hallways of the main administration building on base before crossing a piece of sun-drenched tarmac to the flight tower. It was the second last day for this Top Gun class. They were completing their second last air-to-surface run in Dixie Valley. He stood with Rattler up in the flight tower and watched the Tomcats come in on their approach. "Most of the class is in, sir." Rattler reported. "Still waiting on Lieutenants Caines and Harwick."

"Harwick hit the bogey coming over Checkpoint Echo?" Harm watched the radar screen.

"He caught it with an AMRAAM, but he caught it."Rattler gnawed on a piece of gum."Caines had to come back after two passes and blast it with 20 mike-mike."

"Claim her RIO put her behind the bogey?" Harm adjusted his sunglasses.

"With Skates up there with her? She wouldn't dare claim that, sir." Rattler popped a small bubble. Lieutenant Natalie Caines was the only woman in this Top Gun class but Harm wasn't sure how she'd ever gotten a recommendation for this course. She always had problems in the air-to-surface exercises and she couldn't land the damn Tomcat on the glide-slope. "That's Caines coming in now, sir."

"She's under the glide-slope, Rattler, tell her to power up." Harm watched the Tomcat on the screen.

"Echo-Tango-4, this is Fallon Tower, you are below the glide-slope, feed some power to your ride, Echo-Tango-4." Rattler stopped his radio transmission and watched the plane come in next to his skipper. "Think her hook will catch the two wire simulator this time, sir?"

"We'll find out, Rattler." Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Okay, ease off the power now a little bit, you might overfly the the wires and earn a wave-off." Rattler coached using the radio. The two officers watched as the Lieutenant backed off the power almost completely and looked like she would just barely clear the fence at the far end of the runway.

"Didn't she call the ball?" Harm looked to the Air Boss in the tower.

"Yes sir, she did." The Air Boss affirmed..

"Well, she's lost the damn thing in the sun like an Oakland right fielder." Harm turned toward the radio. "Skates, get her through this one." He radioed into the plane. He watched as the wings leveled off and the Tomcat powered up just long enough to tag the number one wire. "Good work, Skates." Harm encouraged.

Lieutenant Natalie Caines had been something of a working project for the instructors at Top Gun. They'd been trying to bring her along and get her up to speed. Harm had tried going up in her backseat and coaching her along through target practice on the air-to-surface exercises but she hadn't responded well to his coaching. So, Priest was the next one up in the backseat for Lieutenant Caines. Priest had been effective at helping her through target shooting but less effective at getting her to work the wire trap simulator so that she tagged the two wire. Eventually, Harm had called into Pax River to bring out some heavy duty help and Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth 'Skates' Hawkes was on the next F-14 to NAS Fallon. Ever since then, Skates had been riding backseat for Lieutenant Caines, a sum total of two and a half weeks of nearly fifty hours flying time. Skates had made her a better shooter, a more confident flyer but she still couldn't get the damn bird on the ground and tag the two wire.

Harm and Rattler jogged down out of the flight tower toward the ready room. Harm had been good at keeping Caines in the air, he was convinced that she'd get it eventually. Commander Jack Keeter had been another matter. As CAG of the damn base, Keeter had been wanting to pull Caines' wings for a while until just over two weeks ago when Keeter had suggested calling in Skates as help. Harm had always wondered what had caused the shift in Keeter's perspective. Rattler and Harm got down to the Ready Room just in time to see Keeter demanding Lieutenant Caines' wings. The Lieutenant removed them from her flight suit and slapped them down into Keeter's hand. "Alright, every clear the room with the exception of Lieutenant Caines." Harm announced and the room cleared promptly. "Anything to say for yourself, Lieutenant?" Harm folded his arms in front of his chest again and stared down at his subordinate.

"Yes sir, I'd like to charge Commander Keeter with sexual harassment, sir." The Lieutenant replied sheepishly.

1405 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"I've got a new assignment for the two of you." The Admiral walked with Mac and Bud through the bullpen. "But before I go any further, I'm going to tell you straight up that it's at Naval Air Station Fallon." The two-star turned toward the Colonel and the Lieutenant. The Colonel's Marine stoicism was working double time so as not to betray her emotions while Lieutenant Roberts allowed himself a smile. "The convening authority has referred charges brought by Lieutenant Natalie Caines against Commander Jack Keeter for sexual harassment. You two are being sent out there to investigate and conduct an Article 32 to determine if sufficient evidence exists to warrant a court martial."

"Sir, the convening authority in this case is Captain Rabb, is it not?" Bud double-checked.

"It is, Lieutenant." The Admiral pushed open the door to his office. "JAG's very own prodigal son. I don't want that to be a factor here, understood? I understand that both of you are friends with the Captain, I understand that that Captain is close to Commander Keeter and Colonel, I recall you working with Commander Keeter in Iran a few years back. I kept Turner out of this one because I don't want anyone screaming cover up. I need you two to go out there and give me a by-the-book assessment, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Mac answered for the two of them.

"Good. You leave on a COD for Fallon at 1400 out of Andrews, so I suggest you ready yourselves appropriately." The Admiral stood behind his desk. "Dismissed."

Mac and Bud turned and headed out of the Admiral's office. "Isn't it exciting to get to see the Captain again, ma'am?" Bud had a rapturous smile on his face.

"Oh yeah, Bud, freaking Christmas morning." Mac replied sarcastically. Circumstances like this always befell her and Harm. Always and without fail. Of course she would be sent out to Fallon while he was Commanding Officer, of course it would be Keeter who would be under investigation. Then there was the rest of it. Her reporting into him would be the first time that they had spoken since before he'd left without saying goodbye. Then of course there was Harm himself. As it had been on the Henry, he wouldn't leave this investigation alone, he'd be there chasing down anything he could. But maybe he couldn't, Navy regs and the appearance of undue command influence might keep him penned behind his desk until their investigation was over. He'd find a way to talk to her though. She'd give Harm that, he was a good man, an honourable man and he wasn't one to let the elephants in the room get unnecessarily bigger than he was comfortable with. He would talk to her, just not about that one issue which they dared never speak about.

She gathered up her necessary articles and headed back out into the bullpen. "Bud, I'll meet you at Andrews later, alright I've just got to do something before we head out, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am." Bud nodded and watched as Mac marched off toward the elevator.

1446 ZULU

HARRY TRUMAN BUILDING

FOGGY BOTTOM

Mac was becoming a familiar sight around the halls of the State Department. She wasn't sure why she was here. When she had been dating Mic or even engaged to him, she didn't feel the need to apprise him of every investigation at JAG with a face-to-face meeting and Mic actively involved himself in her working time. With him she got away with phone calls even though Mic would have preferred more. But Nate understood, at least supposedly. She could get away with phone calls with him, or even messages with Ms. Clarkson telling him that she would be out of town for a few days. He wouldn't call her when she was on an investigation, he'd wait until she got home and then take her to dinner to let her relax. Some times, dinner was just Blockbuster trip and a pizza delivery away while they cuddled on the couch in some Marine Corps sweats. Why was she here now?

She enjoyed her walk in privileges and simply strode into the open door to his office. "Hey, Mac." Nate smiled broadly as he got out from behind his desk. He walked over and gave her a big hug. She leaned up and kissed the end of his nose playfully. "What's up?" He sat back on the edge of his desk.

"I was just heading out of town on investigation and figured that I'd drop by and say goodbye." She handed him a reserved smile.

"Uh-huh?" He questioned suspiciously.

"What?" She sounded surprised that he wasn't buying it.

"Mac, you've left for investigations before, you normally leave a message with Betty and tell me to make plans for dinner when you get back. It's actually one of the things I like about you that you aren't so self-obsessed that you think I need to be updated on the minutia of your life constantly." He explained. "So, what's up."

"The investigation...it's at NAS Fallon." Mac's eyes turned toward the carpet and Nate let out an exhale that told her he understood.

"Give Harm my warmest regards." Nate plastered on a smile and stood up a little straighter. "And tell him not to brag too much about the weather he gets to enjoy out there."

"That's it?" Mac was taken aback.

"Well yeah, unless he wants to transfer back to DC." Nate widened his smile a little more so you could see his eye teeth.

"No jealousy, no insecurity?" Mac was still shocked.

"Is there something I should be jealous or insecure about?" Nate questioned, again curious. "Last I checked, Harm was your best friend, this should be a good chance for the two of you to catch up."

"Okay, well wow." Mac gave her head a shake. "You're amazing."

"It's a full time job." He laughed a little and roped his arms around her waist. "If you end up going up in a supersonic aircraft and getting sick again, tell Harm that I want to hear all about it, okay?" She playfully smacked him

"Yeah, like you wouldn't get sick." She jostled.

"Hey, I date you, that's a constant thrill ride." He joked again. "I've got a meeting at the White House in about an hour with the President and then I've got a tee-time with my father and the Admiral at the Congressional Country Club this afternoon. Your day will be far more exciting than mine."

"Oh yeah, I get a sore ass from being parked on a COD all afternoon." Mac rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Secretary." Ms. Clarkson's voice rang through the intercom. "A Mr. Seaborn here to see you, sir."

"No way!" Nate cheered. "Send him in, Betty."

"But, he doesn't have an appointment, sir." The Secretary rebuffed.

"He doesn't need one." Nate instructed. The door opened to reveal a tall, fit well dressed man in his mid-thirties. "Sam-man!"

"Nate-ster!" The man cheered as he gave Nate a hug.

"Mac, this is Sam-" Mac cut Nate off.

"Sam Seaborn, I know who he is, we went to Law School together at Duke." Mac explained.

"No, that couldn't be." Sam blinked hard a few times. "Sarah MacKenzie?" Mac nodded and Sam gave her a hug too. "It's been a while, last I heard you were working at Lowell, Hanson and Lowne."

"For a month, five years ago." Mac answered. "You were at Dewey Ballantine."

"Opening up the Washington office of Gage, Whitney, Pace now." Sam smiled. "And checking up on this guy." He gave Nate a pat on the shoulder.

"You know, I never put it together before but you two really would have been at Duke at the same time, huh?" Nate smirked. "Just after you and I were frat brothers at Princeton."

"Fun times all." Sam remarked.

"I've actually got to head out to Nevada on assignment but I'll see you boys later." Mac laughed as she headed for the door.

"Well, when you get back, we can all have dinner." Sam suggested.

"Set it up with the Secretary." Mac smiled. "Talk to you later, honey." Mac blew Nate a quick kiss. He feigned catching it and holding it to his chest. She closed the door.

"Oh, you've got it bad, buddy." Sam joked.

"Shut up." Nate retorted. "Did you really stop by my office at 10 am to shoot the shit?" Nate seemed unconvinced.

"Well that and to ask you why you're working for a Republican White House." Sam's tone shifted. "Do you not care about Social Security or Healthcare reform any more?"

"Well, first, I work in foreign not domestic policy and the President asked me to serve. I believed I was capable." Nate answered. "Now, let's grab a quick hot dog, I've got to head up to the White House in fifty minutes." The two frat brothers headed for the door.

2234 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

The COD ride had been long and bumpy but they'd finally touched down. Bud and Mac pretty much jogged right from the plane to the administrative building. They walked right into the CO's office just like they had countless times before on investigations but they all knew that this time would be different. Mac and Bud got to the office of the CO inside the main administrative building at NAS Fallon. "Colonel MacKenzie and Lieutenant Roberts reporting, sir."

Harm got out from behind his desk. "Stand easy, you two." He smiled. "How are ya, Bud?"

"Good, sir." Bud smiled and Harm gave him a quick bear hug. "Harriet sent me out with pictures of Little AJ." Bud reached into his pocket and produced a few wallet sized photos.

"Thanks, Bud." Harm smiled as he took them. "Mac, how've you been?"

"Fine, Captain." Mac extended her hand formally, lacking their familiarity. It was the same kind of handshake they'd shared that first day in the Rose Garden. Harm was taken aback by her formality. "Sir, if at all possible we'd like to get started with the investigation right away."

"Mac, are you feeling alright?" Harm was puzzled.

"Just fine, sir, but thank you for asking." She once again put strain on his position of authority.

"Bud, could you give me and the Colonel a minute." Harm motioned toward the door and Bud nodded before heading out. "Alright, Mac, what's up?"

"Nothing, sir, I was sent here to conduct an investigation into sexual harassment in your command, I intend to do just that, sir." Mac made sure to phrase the sentence just to throw him.

"Okay, fine Colonel, if you want to do it that way. I am one pay-grade above you, Colonel, so I am officially ordering you to tell me what's wrong and drop the 'sir' crap or my eagles will get on the phone with Admiral Chegwidden and have you put on report." Harm adopted his best Navy SEAL tone. Mac was stuck, Harm had her there. Fine, if he wanted her to drop the formalities, then she'd just lay into him.

"Drop the crap, huh?" Mac licked her lips, spoiling to let out what she'd been holding back since he left. "Who left without saying goodbye, huh, Harm?" She pressed. "After you said you'd never leave, you didn't just leave, you disappeared like a ghost. Ran off into the night like a coward. And you can't say it was good for your career because I know damn well that you had a better offer for your career waiting for you in Washington." Mac stopped and caught her breath. Harm was speechless. "So, with all due respect, sir, and I will address you with due respect, sir, I think the personal crap can take a back seat and I'll just do my job."

Harm stepped back. He wasn't going to win this one and that much he knew. To win this one, he'd have to dig deep and dig out the root of what was buried deep down between him and Mac. He wasn't willing to go there yet. "Would you like my statement about the incident, Colonel?" His tone was more subdued.

"If you would, sir." Mac replied and Harm motioned for her to take a seat. "Bud, you can come back in." Mac called and Bud re-appeared through the door. "What happened, Captain?"

"Since she got here, Lieutenant Caines has been an accident waiting to happen. Commander Keeter wanted to send her back to Pensacola and pull her flight status two weeks in but I stopped him because I figured we could fix her. It started with me going up in her backseat to try and coach her but she said that was too much pressure. So, we sent Priest – Lieutenant Fanelli – my best junior instructor up in her backseat. She got better with the bogeys but still had trouble with the wire simulator." Harm leaned back in his chair.

"Wire simulator?" Mac questioned.

"New toy they sent us. It's the same kind of technology that urban planners use to measure traffic on a given road except it's hooked up to a computer in the flight tower. It simulates the placement of the wires on a carrier deck. Motion sensors read the trajectory of the plane and measure the projected down angle of the tail-hook to determine what wire it would catch. Most of the recruits have been pretty good, catching the two or three wires. A few caught the four early on. My problem with Caines has been that she's caught the one wire so many damn times." Harm shook his head. "Then about two and a half weeks ago, Keeter pulled the bonehead move of the century."

"What happened, sir?" Bud pressed for more.

"I let everyone drive into Las Vegas, if they were so inclined, on weekend liberty, on the condition that they reported back into base by 1700 Sunday. They all did. But on Saturday night, apparently while the Commander was out with Lieutenant Commander Rosales and Lieutenant Holland. They apparently ran into some of the recruits, including Lieutenant Caines, and the Commander made a rather unfortunate comment regarding the Lieutenant's appearance in opposition to her flying ability.." Harm cleared his throat.

"Well, that was stupid." Mac commented.

" Damn Stupid. Keeter was drunk but that's no excuse. He remembered the next morning, came into my office that day and told me. I dressed him down for a solid ten minutes, told him to apologize to the Lieutenant, restricted him to the base for two months and docked half his pay for a month. I also took charge to Lieutenant Caines' instruction over the Commander to avoid the conflict. That was also when I called Pax River to get Skates out here." Harm rose out of his chair. "In the two weeks Skates has been out here, she still hasn't made any progress."

"What happened on the day in question?" Mac leaned forward in her chair.

"She missed the bogey again, on three passes and then damn near clipped the fence at the far end of the runway. She would have been the first Navy pilot I've ever heard of to have a ramp-strike on blacktop runway." Harm shook his head again. "Mac, I didn't understand, all those years ago what made Tom Boone say it but he was right then and I'm gonna be right now, if the Lieutenant were a man she still wouldn't be any damn good. So, Commander Keeter took her wings in the ready room."

"Would you have?" Mac asked.

"Keeter beat me to the ready room." Harm answered. "Because that's what I was on my way to do."

SAME TIME

CONGRESSIONAL COUNTRY CLUB

SILVER SPRING, MARYLAND

"So, AJ, you didn't set up this little tee-time to get beat up by a couple jarheads. What's on your mind?" General Jack sipped at his bourbon on the table. The former Marine Corps Commandant was an imposing figure wherever he went. AJ knew the record, the General had been Commander of Special Operations Command, Commander of US European Command, Supreme Allied Commander of NATO and finally Commandant of the Marine Corps. He'd been a Force Recon Officer and an infantry officer. Like AJ himself, he was a Vietnam veteran having done four tours in the jungle. AJ had gotten his Navy Cross in Vietnam and so had the General.

"Yes, sir...ah no, sir." AJ stammered a little bit. He wasn't often nervous but what he wanted to talk about and sitting opposite a Marine Commandant and the Secretary of State

"Well, which is it AJ, yes or no?" The General pressed in a false mocking tone

"Oh, yes sir, I didn't just set this up so the two of you could beat me at golf, even though I still maintain that you two got luckier than any two golfers I've ever seen. Sir, I was wondering if I could have your permission to...uh....ask Beverly to marry me, sir." AJ gulped hard. The General nearly choked on an ice cube when he heard that last sentence. He shared a knowing look with his son before leaning forward on the table.

"Well, I definitely appreciate you following tradition and coming to ask my permission first." The General handled his glass.

"You're sure you want to join this family?" Nate joked as he reached for his glass of water.

"Nathan." The General used a warning tone.

"I just mean, you guys haven't been seeing each other all that long and among members of our family, the General and I are probably the closest to what you're used to. You've yet to be analyzed by my psychiatrist mother, threatened by my cop brother or chatted to death by my Midshipman sister." Nate laughed to himself.

"There's also the fact that Beverly has turned down two marriage proposals in the past from men that she had been seeing." The General tried to casually mention.

"Either of them a SEAL, sir?" AJ had collected his bearings.

"The first one was an Army Ranger." Nate recalled his eyes moving like they were racking his brain. "As I recall, that was during Bev's rebellious phase. It resulted in Preston, I and a collection of our British cousins beating the hell out of him during a rugby match in the yard at Chincoteague."

"Thought you weren't an athlete, Mr. Secretary." AJ decided to turn the tables a bit.

"Crew and golf are the only organized things I ever did. But football and rugby always got played in our yards during family gatherings." Nate inhaled sharply. "Still do. So, get ready for the next weekend out at the shore."

"Do I have your permission, sir?" AJ was intent on getting an answer to his question.

"Yes, I guess we did get a bit off topic there." General Jack grunted. "Yes, AJ, you may marry my daughter. Provided of course that she says yes, on this issue I don't think I was the member of the family you had to be particularly concerned with."

0302 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

An afternoon and early evening of interviews with Lieutenant Caines, Commander Keeter, Lieutenant Commander Rosales and Lieutenant Commander Hawkes had turned up three accounts which largely corroborated the first interview that they had conducted with Harm when they first got to the base. Lieutenant Caines interview even seemed somewhat in line with what they'd been told. Although the Lieutenant had offered claims of an unsubstantiated pattern of behaviour that was supposedly a result of Commander Keeter's latent attraction to her. Mac had no doubt that somewhere in her past Navy career, the Lieutenant likely had been harassed by another officer maybe even a superior officer but in this case, the Fallon CO was a former JAG officer. Harm's relationship with Keeter would usually be a cause for concern in a case like this, though a CAG and his skipper were usually tight, these two were especially so. Upon reflection, it was likely that tightness that had caused Keeter to come clean with Harm so that Harm could take the precautions necessary to stop this thing from burning Keeter.

They were going to conduct interviews with Lieutenants Fanelli and Holland in the morning before filing their preliminary report in the morning. Barring any major revelations in those interviews, Mac would be recommending against referring charges to an Article 32 and instead suggesting that Commander Keeter be subjected to some supplementary non-judicial punishment. Bud headed to the Captain's house in base housing for an evening bull session. He bounded up the wooden steps and tapped on the screen door. Harm appeared at the door in a pair of jeans and an old USNA t-shirt. He had a bottle of mineral water in hand and a Corona for Bud. "Take a seat, Bud."

"Thank you, sir." Bud took a seat on the front porch. Harm tossed him a beer and the bottle cap opener. "We miss you at JAG, sir."

"Well, I miss you all too, Bud." Harm smiled as he took a seat of his own.

"I think Colonel MacKenzie's going to eat Commander Turner alive some days, sir. He's just not as good at...you know...handling her as you were, sir." Bud tried to explain.

"Yeah, women never were exactly Sturgis' strong suit." Harm chuckled to himself. "Mine either for that matter, I suppose."

"The Colonel's either I suppose." Bud muttered to himself.

"What was that, Bud?" Harm thought he'd heard something.

"I said, handling women isn't the Colonel's strong suit, either sir." Bud scrambled to explain himself.

"Well, it doesn't have to be, Bud." Harm took a sip. "Mac is one, she doesn't have to handle them."

"No, not Colonel MacKenzie, sir. Colonel Ross." Bud yawned. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just that Harriet told me the other day that the Colonel was complaining that she, and the Colonel, well that is Colonel Ross, haven't well......in the few months they've been dating and it has the Colonel, that is Colonel MacKenzie, worried."

"When you say that they haven't..." Harm peaked an eyebrow.

"I mean the big _haven't_, sir." Bud gulped his beer. "It's got the Colonel, that is Colonel MacKenzie although maybe Colonel Ross too, I haven't asked him but it certainly has her frustrated. At least that's what she told Harriet."

Harm couldn't restrain his laugh. Months later and miles from Washington and Bud Roberts could still trip over his tongue like he was running over the 100m hurdles. "Does the Secretary spend a lot of time at JAG?"

"Not really, sir. We have been seeing a lot of Reverend Ross now that she and the Admiral are seeing each other. She's nice, sir, I think you'd really like her." Bud sipped his beer this time. "She and Harriet get along really well." Harm didn't doubt that Harriet likely did get along quite well with the Admiral's new girlfriend but Harriet often found a way to find something likable about anyone from the outside who was close to someone at JAG Ops. She'd liked Dalton and Mic, she'd liked Annie, Jordan and Renee, she even liked Sidney when the Admiral had been dating her. Harm was sure that Harriet had founded something to like about both Beverly and Nate. Which brought Harm back to a train of thought that gave him a guilty feeling of superiority. Almost three months in, almost done the relationship probation period and the two of them still hadn't....? He stayed and shot the shit with Bud for about another hour before the two of them got up and walked across the base to the VOQ. He dropped Bud off and went to see if Mac was still up. He figured that she likely would be. He knocked on the door to her quarters. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. Damn, if this was a carrier, he'd know where she'd gone to think. Then it hit him

Harm headed over to the motor pool and took out a car. He headed out to the fence just beyond runway one and sure enough he saw the familiar form of a Marine Lieutenant Colonel lying down on top of the hood of a car, staring up into the stars. "Kinda dangerous to be out here alone at night, Colonel." He teased as he walked up to the side of a car.

"Harm, some of my fondest memories are from time spent in the desert, you really think I'm that worried about lying on top of a car on a Naval Air Station, miles from anyone?" Mac sat up and looked at him.

"Alright, good point." He hopped on to the car next to her. "At least I got you to drop all that 'sir' and 'Captain' nonsense with me." He wet his lips. "Listen, Mac, I really am sorry about leaving without saying goodbye."

She didn't look at him, she just stared out into the desert. "Then why'd you do it?"

"I don't know." He could practically hear Keeter over his shoulder commenting on that response. Bullshit, he thought to himself, he knew exactly why.

"I'm sorry, Harm, but that answer's not good enough. You don't abandon your best friend for an unknown reason. Especially you. You had a damn good reason, now what was it?" She turned to look at him. Could he tell her? Could he look into those deep molten chocolate eyes and tell her what had honestly dragged him all the way out here to the Nevada desert. He averted his eyes from her intense gaze and looked down at the hood of the car.

"I couldn't watch it again, Mac." Harm shook his head and got up off the car.

"Watch what?" Mac was genuinely curious.

"I couldn't work in that office, spend everyday with you and watch you fall in love with another man again." Harm blurted out, expressing feelings that had long caused him frustration and grief. "Not again, Mac."

"Tell me why." Was all she could say.

"You know why." He reverted back to the same old cryptology they'd always used.

"No, I don't. Not after all these years, I don't. I'm not a mind reader and I won't take a word, syllable or punctuation mark for granted." Mac stated plainly.

"So, I hear that you and the Secretary aren't..." Harm tried to change the subject.

"Harm..." Mac warned. "You just doubled Harriet's paperwork when I get back to the office."

"I'm just saying it's been almost three months..." Harm was willing to chance talking about anything but his feelings.

"Two months, two weeks, six days and twenty-three hours." Mac replied crisply. "And what, you think if it hasn't been three months and we're not sleeping together, it's not a real relationship?"

"I just find his approach interesting." Harm remarked coyly.

"Harm, my feet are tired of dancing." Mac climbed off the hood and into the car. "So, either change the song or get off the dance floor." She stood there waiting for him to say something, anything. She hated herself for it. There was a good man in her life already, back in DC. She was supposed to be happy with him and she was. So, why was she giving Harm this one last chance? Why did she want him to kiss her? And why wasn't she surprised when he just stood there? "You'll have my

report by 1200, Captain." Mac fired up the car and headed back to the VOQ.

2210, FRIDAY

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The journey out to NAS Fallon had been enlightening to say the least. The sexual harassment case had been found to be ungrounded speculation at best. There was no pattern of harassment, no recurrence of objectionable behaviour. Harm had retained at least enough of his JAG days to ensure that much. Mac forced a smile to her face, all his time at JAG had turned Harmon Rabb into the kind of no nonsense officer that AJ Chegwidden would be proud of. Mac had filed her preliminary report with the convening authority and the Admiral before sticking both her and Bud on a plane and ensuring that they both arrived back in Washington.

The Admiral had called Mac, Sturgis, Bud and Harriet into his office once she and Bud had returned from NAS Fallon. "As you're all no doubt wondering why I've called you in here, I'll make this brief." The Admiral looked up from the work on his desk only momentarily. "I've asked the Reverend Ross to marry me and she's accepted." Chegwidden allowed himself the slightest glimmer of a smile. "You all are invited to a celebratory dinner at my house on Sunday night."


	6. One Step Up

There was no catapult, there was no carrier deck to land on once he was done but it was just getting in the cockpit again that made the whole thing for Tom Boone. He wasn't sure he'd ever see the inside of an F-14 after his failed CNO nomination almost two years ago. But Harm had called him when he'd first taken command of Fightertown and then he'd called him again when his first Top Gun class had graduated. Harm got him out to Fallon and behind the stick of a Tomcat. He went up against his former wingman's son in a quick joust as Harm took an F-5 up and flew a radar evasion exercise through the Dixie Valley before running a quick air-to-air sparring match against Harm. The older, more experienced former CAG finding himself in tight against the new skipper of Fightertown.

Each dip, dive, roll, loop and hook seemed so carefully choreographed. The Saints gathered up in the flight tower to watch the two aviators tangle courtesy of the radar screen. For Keeter, it was akin to that scene in the Matrix where the rest of the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar gather around to watch Morpheus and Neo do battle in the Dojo. Climbing off the deck to Angels 10 to move their little contest from Dixie Valley to Lahontan Valley. A 7-G hook was almost predictably followed by a 9-G move that would turn the once prey into the hunter. A sparring match that between two other, lesser pilots would have ended in ten minutes or less was now stretching into thirty-five minutes. Everyone in the flight tower was as riveted now as they had been at the beginning.

Priest would have given anything to be up there with them. In an F-5, in a Tomcat, in a Hornet, hell in the Wright Brothers plane, anything if it meant getting to see this battle firsthand. The Saints had taken the Skipper in as one of their own. When Tom Boone had seen the "Hammer"on Harm's plane and on his helmet, the squad could swear they'd seen the slightest essence of a twinkle in the eye of the ancient mariner. Keeter knew from experience that the longer this match went, the more opportunity that the CAG had to get his wings under him again, the more likely it was that he'd paint Harm with his radar and win. But he also knew that, all things being equal, there wasn't a pilot in the Navy that could tame the stick like the Hammer.

The two of them worked eastward toward the Lone Rock just north of Walker Lake. Harm was fast on the CAG's six, trying to rein him in so that he could paint him and end the match. The CAG pulled a ten and a half G dive and roll up recovery that Harm copied but overshot. An aviator with the CAG's skill would have seen that coming. The pitch dynamic on an F-14 being more drastic than that of the lighter, leaner F-5. Combining that with the roll up recovery and the CAG would have settled into a comfortable predatory position behind Harm. He locked on the younger aviator and painted him with the missile guidance system. "You're done, Hammer." The familiar drawl echoed through the radio and both birds turned back toward home. They taxied down the separate runways and came to a stop outside the hangars of NAS Fallon.

"Now, that was one for the ages!" The CAG enthused as he approached Harm on the tarmac. "You're wasting it here at this gas station in the desert. You'd do a hell of a lot more for the Navy out in the fleet."

"You know the old line, CAG, not enough combat missions and not enough traps." Harm shook his head.

"Yeah, you did miss a couple wars." Tom laughed and pulled a cigar out from the inside of his flight suit. He took the cigar out of the plastic tube that kept the tobacco moist and unaffected by other outside environmental factors and stuck it between his teeth. "Hear you've got another kid out here who's a hell of an aviator."

"Lieutenant Fanelli." Harm nodded as he and Tom headed toward the flight tower. "We call him Priest, got a DFC over Afghanistan after completing an air-to-surface run that knocked out SAM sites after a burst of gunfire popped his canopy and put some glass into his one eyelid. Didn't punch out, brought the bird back into the carrier at night."

"Not bad, of course, he's a Naval aviator and a Top Gun graduate, if he was an Air Force pilot I'd actually have cause to be impressed." Tom laughed and stuck the cigar back between his teeth. Harm gave a laugh too and shook his head. Having the CAG around reminded Harm of what it was like to be a young aviator, fresh out of Pensacola, launching off a flat-top on his first sea duty. Harm was a different aviator now, a better one. He was air qualified in a Tomcat, a Hornet and an F-5 now, he was now a highly regarded line officer as the Skipper at NAS Fallon. "This would have been your father's favourite duty station. He probably would have preferred it out at Miramar but the desert's nice for golfers."

"Thought you hated golf?" Harm questioned and opened the door to the flight tower.

"I do, but it's the only way I can get out of the damn house for six hours at a time." Tom had the slightest air of resentment in his voice. "Besides, years with yaw, pitch and roll physics make swing training a breeze."

Harm laughed. He always thought that he'd been a better golfer when he was flying as opposed to when he was soloing behind a desk at JAG.

2340 ZULU

CLYDE'S OF GEORGETOWN

GEORGETOWN

It had taken some time to set up a decent dinner for the three of them. Mac had drawn two more investigations after her trip out to NAS Fallon, traffic at the State Department had been unusually heavy with the G8 coming up in Montauk and setting up the Washington office for a major law firm was proving to be unsuspectingly taxing for Sam's time. Nate never minded getting dinner in Georgetown so that Mac didn't have a long trip home. It was relatively close to the office for him, even if it meant crossing the bridge to go home later. He kept some more casual attire in his office at State, she kept some in her sea-bag in her car. There were nights when he would even drive out to Falls Church and pick her up before they went to dinner. But once she explained to him that she didn't like leaving her car at work when she wasn't at work.

She liked Clyde's, the menu was good and it wasn't nearly as stuffy as a lot of D.C's finer establishments. Tonight Mac had thrown a curve-ball and come to pick him up at the State Department, they'd shared some laughs and sang some steering wheel karaoke. Mac had changed into some nice sort of semi-formal clothing, Nate simply took off his tie and cast it into the trunk of her car before simply undoing the top button on his shirt. These dates were nice because they were simple, they weren't an obstacle course of high expectations.

"Sam, I hope you weren't waiting long." Nate shook Sam's hand as he and Mac met him at their table.

"No, I think I've been trading looks with this redhead at the bar but I'm never sure whether they're looking or not." Sam lightly tapped his fingers on his glass of water. Mac craned her neck and looked over toward the bar at a redhead who immediately looked away.

"Oh yeah, she was looking." Mac took a seat opposite Sam and Nate slid in next to her.

"That was very subtle, Mac, thank you." Sam gazed down into his menu. "Long day over at Foggy Bottom?"

"No more than usual." Nate opened his own menu. "The new office keeping you busy?"

"Seems like my days are lost behind a stack of files and client rosters." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I can imagine. We lost our filing traffic cop when Gunny transferred out to Afghanistan." Mac loved some of the steak options at Clyde's.

"How is JAG?" Sam looked up from his menu. "From what I've heard around the Beltway, you're one hell of a lawyer, you even took down one of our old professors a few times."

"Well, it's good to know that the scuttlebutt is good at least." Mac laughed lightly. "JAG is good, I've got some great friends in the office and it's really rare in the Marine Corps to have a CO as malleable on some of the rules as the Admiral has been."

"So, there's no way I could convince you to jump ship to Gage, Whitney?" Sam was only half-kidding.

"Sam, come on, we didn't come here to talk business, did we?" Nate tried to change topics. He knew that Mac didn't like talking about her time in private practice and wasn't one to lightly deal with the topic of again leaving JAG. He just hoped she would take Sam's inquiry as ignorance as opposed to arrogance.

"No." Mac smiled fondly. "Leaving JAG was a mistake the first time I tried it." The air hung heavy for a few seconds before Nate jumped in again.

"So, getting used to living in the most politicized five mile radius in the country again?" Nate leaned back against the padding of the booth.

"Actually I had lunch with a friend of mine working in the office of the Democratic Leader in the Senate." Sam motioned for the waitress to come to their table.

"Oh, and is the Senator from Texas running for President or is he just posturing?" Nate sipped at the glass of water.

"Oh, he's got fifty million in the war chest, he's going." Sam stated matter-of-factly. "Not sure he's the best man for the job."

"Hearing that from a lot of Democrats." Nate nodded. Mac wasn't sure if she should jump in on this one. Politics hadn't exactly been an area of interest for her before, even living in Washington.

"Is it something you'd consider?" Sam looked across the table at his old frat brother.

"I'm not running for President, Sam." Nate laughed boisterously.

"I know that, I meant elected office. Like running against the Republican incumbent in the Virginia Senate Race next year." Sam theorized. Nate looked down at the table for a second before turning his head and looking at Mac. The two of them locked eyes for a few seconds before Nate talked to Sam again. "Something I haven't thought of since Princeton. Maybe it's a thought worth dusting off again."

0424 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

The CAG didn't drink beer any more. Didn't have the same effect it once had on him. You wanted to feel it when you drank but beer failed at that with the CAG. The CAG stood out on the front porch of Harm's house on the base with a tumbler of Kentucky Bourbon in his left hand and another Montecristo in his right hand. "So, why did you drag me out here?" The CAG took a sip of the bourbon. "Much as I enjoyed it, you didn't get me out here to get me behind the stick again."

"No, no I didn't." Harm stepped through the screen door.

"So, what did you want to talk about." Tom Boone leaned up against the rail on the porch. Harm shook his head. "Listen, when you were younger I came around because I told your old man I would if something happened to him. As you grew up, it got kind of rough for me because you looked so damn much like him that it reminded me how I failed, how I could have stuck around a few extra minutes back in '69 and your dad would probably still be alive."

"Tom, that's in the past." Harm waved him off. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Well, what's on your mind?" Tom pursed his lips after taking another sip of bourbon.

"I've been trying to square some things away in my life for the last two years and I figured this time I tried, I'd start from where they got fouled up in the first place." Harm tried to explain. "What I wanted to ask you about....well, you remember that USO Tour that came on board before dad went down?"

Tom knew where this was headed. He hung his head and shook his tumbler a bit. "You want to know about Jenny Lake."

"I ran into her at the Wall a couple Christmas Eves back." Harm commented.

"What did she tell you?" Tom stuck the cigar between his teeth.

"That the week before she was onboard, her boyfriend went down. Dad met her, saved her from committing suicide and she acted out of vulnerability and kissed him." Harm went down to the bare essentials.

"Sure, that's one explanation for what happened." Tom came back.

"Is there another one?" Harm pressed.

"That depends." Tom answered, his arms folded in front of his chest."

"On what?" Harm pushed again.

"On whether or not you're finally willing to let go of an image of your father you've held on to for far too long." Tom was deadly honest. "Listen to me, Harm, your problem has always been that you have your dad on a pedestal from which nothing could ever take him down. That has allowed your father to stay firmly as your father and allowed you to be the same boy that went on a Tiger cruise on the Hornet."

"Now CAG, that's not..." Harm tried to interject but Tom stopped him.

"Yes it is." The CAG continued. "And we all fed it. Me, Skipper Ross, Trish just about anybody who knew your father because on some level I guess we all wanted you to have a little bit of what you missed out on by not having him around. A lot was always expected of you on a professional level, hell in that case I tried to treat you like one of my own aviators, so did the Skipper but we never let you believe anything but the best of your father and we would have thrown to the screws anyone who tried."

"What are you trying to say, sir?" Harm was a little off put.

"Harm, you do your dad a disservice by downplaying his mortality." Tom tried to explain. "You found out about your brother and rationalized why your father had been with his mother. You find out about Jenny Lake and what happens? You're here trying to get an explanation for something about your father that you don't want to believe."

"Did he cheat on my mother?" Harm wanted to strike right at the point.

"You want the truth? Here's what I know. I know that the night before your dad went down, after he got back from the Intruder mission, he spent a considerable amount of time in our quarters with Miss Lake, I know that he got awful quiet immediately afterward and I know that the guys in our squad who were quartered next door claimed to have been hearing those kind of familiar noises from our quarters. That's what I know for sure." Tom Boone braced himself on the railing. "You don't have to let your dad go, Harm, shit not a day goes by that Hammer doesn't cross my mind in some way. But you have to let go of this idea that your dad was untouchable. That he was a hero in a way that was any different than you've been since you've been in the service. Your dad was a hell of a pilot and one of the best men I ever knew but even the best men still make mistakes."

Harm hung his head. Damn. It was the first in a long line of piecing things together, maybe he wouldn't like the answers but he needed to start hearing them. "Thanks, Tom." Harm stated almost under his breath.

"Believe me when I tell you that it was no fun telling you that." Tom gave him a pat on shoulder. "He's no worse a man than he was when you woke up this morning, "But it's about time you got a picture of your father that was more than old letter tapes." Tom walked into Harm's house on the base where a bed had been made up for him on an old pull-out couch in the guest room.

Harm leaned forward on the railing of his porch, staring out over the base and runway one of NAS Fallon. The light from the stars cascaded down over the desert. He didn't want to believe what Tom had told him. But on some level, Harm knew it was true. He normally wouldn't have wanted to believe the worst of his father, he normally would have fought it fiercely. But he didn't want to pile up one rationalization on another one. There was a kind of comfort in having your worst suspicions confirmed rather than hiding behind the questions forever. He had taken a step that he should have taken two years ago. But why, as he looked up at the night sky, did he wonder if she was seeing the same stars he was?

SAME TIME

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

"What the hell was that?!" Mac slammed the door to her apartment behind her.

"What the hell was what?" Nate spun on heel to face her

"You take me out to dinner, just to sandbag me with a job offer?" Mac lashed out. "That was a cheap shot. How long were the two of you planning that."

"Objection, counsel is jumping to conclusions." Nate shot caustically. "I had no idea he was going to do that."

So, we just happen to end up at dinner, with a friend of yours who's setting up the Washington offices for a major national law firm and you had no idea that he was going to offer me a job." Her tone had less edge.

"None at all." Nate shook his head and cautiously moved toward her. "I don't make plans for your career, I want you to do whatever makes you happy. From what I can tell, you're happy at JAG. You've got lifetime kind of friends and you adore the Marine Corps, why would I ever mess with anything that good?"

"You should be a lawyer." Mac jested.

"Why?" He was confused.

"Because you're very good at talking your way out of minefields." She moved toward him and wrapped him in a hug. "Are you really considering joining Bobbi Latham in the Senate?"

"Do you know what would have to happen to get me to join the cavalcade of fools in Congress?" Nate laughed.

"Then why did you look to me for approval?" Mac questioned.

"Wasn't approval." Nate looked away for a second. "I was intrigued by the idea for a second and I wanted to gage your initial reaction. You're the woman in my life, a decision like that would drastically effect you, you can't think that I would even consider it without having a discussion with you first."

Mac paused for a second, her mouth slightly agape. "You're good at that, you know."

"What?" He was back to monosyllabic questions.

"The whole relationship as partnership thing." Mac shook her head. "Your natural inclination is to loop me in on stuff, the only time you cut me out of the loop is if it's professional."

"Well, that's only because you don't have..." Nate tried to explain.

"Security clearance, I know." She completed his sentence. "And as frustrating as that is, it's something I can accept. But you don't want to be Senator Ross? I mean that could be kind of sexy."

"Really?" He peaked an eyebrow as she leaned in close. "You know, my old CO called me up a few days ago and tried to talk me into reactivating my commission. I could be Colonel Ross full time." He winked at her.

"Is that right?" Mac reached up and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. She yanked him in and pressed her lips hard against his. He brought his hands down to her hips, and opened his fingers up. Those big hands knew what they were supposed to do. When they had to, they could be rougher, more passionate but they were always measured with a sense of sensitivity and softness. She forced her hips forward and pressed against his midsection which caused him to smile. The two of them tumbled backward on to the couch in her living room. "I still think Senator is sexier than Colonel."

"Uh huh." Nate moaned as Mac kissed her way down over the stubble on to his neck. She had damned him in the past, begrudging him his self control. Nothing addicted him, nothing grabbed him and forced him to sacrifice even a little control. She'd watched him smoke cigars all night with his friends and then go a month without so much as looking at another cigar and he'd done the same thing with alcohol. He'd even done it with her. He'd kiss her, touch her, taste her and let her linger on his lips but he'd always been able to stop himself before they went the final step. There was no point of no return, no point of submission. She wanted to lift his back up off the couch so that she could cast his jacket aside but she knew that unless he wanted it, that jacket wasn't going anywhere.

"I better get going." He cleared his throat, his voice weak. He knew that a few more moments, a few more traces of those lips of fire down his neck and he'd be a goner. "I've got a conference call at 8 tomorrow morning with the Canadian and British foreign ministers and I really need to be up for that."

The two of them walked toward the door. "What does your schedule look like for tomorrow?" She leaned on the doorframe.

"Pack bumper to bumper." He answered. "I'm into the office at 7am and I'll be lucky if I get out before 10." He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "But I'll miss you the whole time."

"Uh huh." She smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, before I forget." He snapped his fingers. "I've been invited to give the commencement address at Georgetown in a couple of weeks, you're welcome to come as my guest."

"Sounds like it could be fun." She sounded unsure.

"And we could follow that up with a weekend trip out to the summer house on the Eastern Shore, hit up some of those quaint, cozy restaurants and walk along the beach." He moved in an roped his arms around her waist.

"Well, see now that sounds like a good time." She grinned and kissed him lightly. "See ya later, Marine."

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled, exited and she shut the door behind him.

1437 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

Tom Boone had gone up to dogfight with Priest and Rattler this morning. Harm called this a tune-up run for the first F-18 Top Gun class of Harm's tenure that was due in next week. The CAG was, after all, the best pilot that Harm had ever known. He'd gone up in his Tomcat first and he'd taken off for Dixie Valley. Priest and Rattler had gone up in their Super Hornets and chased after the CAG. Harm and the rest of the Saints watched in the flight tower as the CAG took the two younger aviators to school. The CAG had battled MiGs and Sukhois when the stakes were really high and the bullets really mattered. He had hundreds of combat missions, tens of thousands of hours of flying time, a couple thousand traps and a few dozen confirmed kills to his record. But right now, the two young aviators were running the old sea dog pretty good.

Harm knew this exercise would be as much fun for the CAG as it would be for the pilots involved. Tom Boone was a legend in Naval Aviation. Rattler and Priest would jump at any chance to go up for the chance to shoot him down in a war game exercise. While for the CAG, it was the chance to test his metal against two of the best that the new Navy had to offer. Rattler was a gunner, a pilot that leaned heavily on his weapons and always though about offence. He was good behind the stick, but he didn't have the kind of high end aerial instincts that the best pilots always had. Rattler could gun down just about anything he could see. He knew the exact aerial specs on every piece of weaponry attached to his bird and he knew how far he could push every missile and bullet. This made him almost the exact opposite of Priest who had those first class instincts behind the stick. Harm knew that if these two could get their crap together, they'd lay Rattler out as bait to lure the CAG out and just when it looked like the CAG was going to blast Rattler, drop Priest on him.

Just as it had been with Harm though, the longer the exercise went on, the more it favoured Admiral Boone. If he figured out the kind of flyers that he was up against, he'd know the tricks that they would try and use and he'd be able to counter them. He didn't like either of their chances alone against the CAG, even as good as Priest was, the CAG had likely forgotten more about Naval aviation than the young man would ever know. Harm watched Priest break off from Rattler's wing and climb. There were those instincts that Harm would brag about. Priest knew that the CAG would prefer to stretch out the exercise and that he'd burn too much fuel by gluing himself to the deck. But this tactic had risks, if he found the CAG around Angels 20, he'd have to go it alone until Rattler got there.

"Priest just signed his death warrant." Keeter grunted as he watched the CAG break back from Lone Rock toward the end of the Dixie Valley run. "He's too far from Rattler. If the CAG gets there first..."

"He can handle him." Harm cut Keeter off.

"You wanna bet, Skipper?" Keeter joshed, eager to make up for being assigned the duty of cleaning the head only weeks earlier.

"How about a bottle of Jack?" Harm extended his hand.

"You're on." Keeter shook the hand. Sure enough the CAG was soon closing in on Priest's six. Rattler had curled around the toe of Walker's Lake and was coming back but basic physics told everyone in the flight tower that the CAG would have a visual on Priest before Rattler got a visual on the CAG.

"When will the CAG have a visual on Priest?" Harm looked to his radar officer.

"Ballpark? Thirty or forty seconds." The radar officer stated simply.

"Twenty-seven if he rides the afterburners." Dutch calculated, drawing weird looks from everyone in the flight tower. They watched as Priest climbed a few thousand feet, buying himself a few more seconds and a bit of cloud cover. The CAG climbed too, punching the afterburners to try and make up a little lost ground on the younger aviator. Almost as if on cue, about thirty seconds later, the CAG gets his first visual of the Super Hornet on the horizon. He used the targeting system to try and get a missile lock on him only watch Priest send the aircraft into a 9-G turn on a down angle, forcing both of them down through the clouds toward the deck. The CAG counted off a few seconds before giving suit, he didn't want to dive too eagerly and come up fast like Harm had yesterday. He executed the similar turn at a similar down angle. But when he hit Angels 10, the Super Hornet was nowhere to be found.

Up in the tower, Harm's mood was definitely more celebratory. "That was a world class move!" the Fallon Skipper enthused. Priest had taken his bird down through the clouds with that 9-G turn but he'd then put it into a 4-G pull up and a loop that the clouds had covered from the CAG's vision and as a result, he had fallen right in on the CAG's six. Priest flipped on the targeting system, readied the phoenix missiles and painted the CAG.

"Bang, bang, you're dead, Admiral." Priest smiled as the missile warning light flashed in the CAG's cockpit. The three aviators headed home with the CAG still shaking his head.

"How the hell did you do that, Priest?" The CAG looked out the side of his cockpit to his wing.

"I fly with the US Navy, sir, we train only the best." The young man replied with a cocksure grin.

"Good answer, Lieutenant." The CAG laughed heartily. Rattler was the first one on approach and he taxied his bird down.

"Fallon tower, this is Priest calling in, requesting permission for a fly-by." Priest was already gunning up the engines.

"Permission granted." Harm commandeered the radio and his authorization was followed soon after by the Super Hornet buzzing the tower. The CAG brought his bird down, followed by Priest coming in last. The plane captains took over the birds, bringing them back into the hangar.

"Now that young man can fly!" The CAG enthused as he walked toward Harm who was standing on the tarmac, his finger pointed at Priest. The CAG reached out and shook Priest's hand. "You could have flown in my air wing anyday."

"Thank you, sir." Priest smiled.

"Well what do you think, Captain?" Tom turned toward Harm.

"I think he just won me a bottle of Jack from my CAG." Harm shook Tom's hand. "Thanks for the tutorial, sir."

"Any time, Harm." Tom had been tempted to call him Hammer but felt that after their discussion the night before, it would be a step backward. "You're a hell of a skipper."

"Thanks." Harm grinned to himself.

1510 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The daily staff meeting was a little later this morning. Bud and Sturgis were in court first thing on pre-trial motions for the Poulton court martial. Mac was stuck behind her desk doing administrative reviews and plotting mean and wicked things to do to the Admiral for sticking her with this particular task this week. She thought of ordering Singer to do them but figured that if she did that, she'd have to fix them after Singer screwed them up. The Admiral had been in unusually sarcastic mood since Beverly Ross accepted his proposal, he found a way to be chipper even while distributing the most mind-numbing of tasks. You almost thought he was mocking you.

Mac and the rest of the staff came to attention in the Admiral's office and he put them at ease. He set about dispensing the cases, handing a couple indecent exposures to Singer and assigning Manetti and Turner an investigation out at New London before turning toward Mac and Bud. He gave Mac the prosecution on a high profile assault case that had taken place on the Naval complex at Norfolk and assigned Bud as defense counsel. Just when they thought the meeting had concluded, the Admiral punched his intercom. "Send him in, Tiner." The Admiral announced and the door to his office swung open a few short seconds later. A familiar figure took his place at the side of the Admiral's desk. "Everyone, Gunnery Sergeant Galindez will be re-joining this office for a few months, likely until he's cleared for line duty again or until Mr. Webb decides that the Gunny is needed for a mission."

"Good to have you back, Gunny." Mac nodded to her fellow Marine.

"Good to be back, Colonel." Gunny smiled quickly.

"Alright, that's all." The Admiral sat back in his chair. "Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir." The staff chorused and headed for the door.


	7. The Promised Land

He loved working under his car. He'd found an old Ford engine to stick in it. Of course, he'd pretty much had to break it down piece by piece, fix or replace what was broken and reassemble what wasn't but he finally got the damn thing put back together. He'd done most of the hard work himself. He'd rebuilt, rust-checked and rust-proofed all the guts on this car. His brother had come over to help some, his father had come over to help some even the Admiral had come over and slid under the car when they were putting in the new tranny. The car had been re-upholstered from the floor to the roof. All he had to do now was get the primer and paint applied to it and it would be done. He was doing one last inspection under the car before he'd decide that he was finished for the evening and leave the sub-basement of his building to go upstairs and get ready for the evening.

"You know, if you're going to invite me to meet you in a parking garage, at least you can show your face." A familiar voice joked and Nate went to look up only to whack his head on the under side of the chassis. He slid out on the trolley from under the car.

"Thanks for the welt, Sam." Nate rubbed his forehead.

"Alright, what was so important that I had to do my best Deep Throat impression in a DC parking garage at 7:30 on a Friday night?" Sam leaned up against the '32 Ford.

"Gage-Whitney represents a lot of the big Democratic donors, don't they?" Nate wiped some of the grease out from under his eyes.

"A lot of them, not all of them." Sam nodded slowly.

"And you've still got some contacts up on the Hill, correct?" Nate started wiping off his hands with a rag he had lying around the shop.

"Yeah." Sam began to smile. "You're not asking me to..."

"Quietly and discreetly." Nate looked him right in the eye. "It's kind of imperative that no one finds out. I don't want this to become the talk of the rumor mill and I really don't need to get into a twelve round fight with the White House Office of Political Affairs."

"Understood." Sam nodded knowingly before looking up at his old college friend. "So, I'm running an unofficial exploratory committee of just me, looking into a possible run for the United States Senate?"

"That's exactly it." Nate nodded. "Any problems with that?"

Sam shook his head. "None on the professional end. You've got a girlfriend of almost four months who should probably know, though."

"She knows." Nate looked straight forward.

"She knows you're doing this or know some relative variation on this that is just similar enough to give you wiggle room in an argument?" Sam pressed on a little harder.

"More like the second one. She knows I'm considering a run for the Senate." Nate reached down to the floor for his bottle of water.

"But not that you were asking me to put feelers out?" Sam shook his head again. "You realize that this could come back and bite you in the ass big time, right?"

"Oh yeah." Nate laughed sarcastically. "Listen, this isn't a big thing. If you come back to me and tell me there's no support for a run, then I don't run. If you come back and tell me there is, then I'll have a talk with Mac before I announce. It's not like I'm going to do it without her, there's just no need to get her all worked up by something that's up in the air."

"Wow, lot of miles on that denial machine, huh?" Sam joked and gave Nate a pat on the shoulder. "I can't believe you still fix cars."

"Yeah, when I'm on a dry streak, I normally find some way of releasing the tension. Working on this car for the last few months has been my way of doing that." Nate looked over the '32 Ford. "She's wonderful."

"Well there's a grease monkey and...well, the anti-grease monkey if ever I saw them." Mac chimed as she walked into the sub-basement.

"And they laughed and laughed." Sam jested as he got up off the car. He gave Mac a quick hug before she walked over kissed Nate on the lips. She went to hug him but stopped when she noticed the grease on his coveralls.

"The ghillie suit is one thing, this is just ridiculous." She laughed and he mocked offence.

"I'll see you two later." Sam headed for the exit to the garage.

"So, does he just randomly hang out here now?" Mac glanced over her shoulder.

"Yeah." Nate nodded jokingly. "Alright, let me go upstairs and clean up. He guided the two of them over to the elevator and they rode it up to the fifth floor. The close call a couple weeks earlier in his apartment had stayed with him. It was all he could do to maintain his composure and not pin her up against the wall of the elevator and peel that uniform off her thread by thread. The elevator ride was mercifully quick and Nate practically sprinted off the elevator and into his apartment. Mac followed a little more slowly, her sea-bag dangling from her wrist.

"So, where you wanna go?" Mac called after him as he prepared the shower so he could wash the grease off his face and out of his hair.

"How about Morton's?" Nate shouted back over the repeated hammering of water drops on tile. "You love their steaks."

"That's true." Mac called back. She had slept over before, changed in his apartment, in his bedroom. She laid out the dress on the bed and looked at it. Could she be bold enough, would she even dare? She walked across the apartment naked and snuck into the bathroom. Steam doused the room in a thick haze. Mac groped for a towel and wrapped one around her magnificent curved form. They were hitting on all cylinders in their relationship but this single solitary one. He knew what she liked, she knew what he liked; she was enamoured of his intelligence, his strength of character and his compassion. It not that they weren't physical, it's that they weren't _that_ physical.

The shower turned off and he stepped out to find her standing there. His jaw hit the floor. She was gorgeous, a goddess, everything a man could possibly want and he did want her. In that instant, he failed to understand his hesitation. Why he was holding off. But another part of him was questioning why she was trying so hard. If it was meant to happen, surely it just would, wouldn't it? But what if it was meant to happen before and he'd simply hammered the brakes on a situation that was meant to achieve a different end. "Need someone to wash you back?" She questioned impishly.

"Just finished." He sounded guilty. Obviously catching her inference, he tried to avoid the confrontation and leave the bathroom but she stopped him.

"Are you not attracted to me physically, or something?" She forced him to look her in the eye.

"Put that idea out of your head right now." He was starting to lose himself in those milk chocolate orbs.

"Then why?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Something in my gut is telling me I shouldn't." He answered honestly. "I don't know what it is and I'd like it to go away as soon as possible but until it does, we can't."

"Aren't your gut instincts ever wrong?" She pressed herself against him.

"Sadly, never." Nate shook his head. "And I learned long ago to listen to them." He put his hands on her waist and moved the two of them back through the door of the bathroom. She put her hands on either side of his face and brought him in for a sweet, tender kiss. Not realizing that he was sitting on top a load of dynamite and she was the kid playing with a magnifying glass near the fuse. His fingers ran over the cotton of the towel and he pinned her between him and his living room wall. His heart was racing as he started kissing his way down from her lips to her neck.

"Um, what happened to your gut instincts and dinner at Morton's?" Mac gasped out between her own frantic breaths. He stopped and hung his head.

"You're right." His hands came down and hung loosely at his side. He moved toward the bedroom, Mac behind him. The two of them got ready to go to dinner.

1415 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

The first F-18 Top Gun class was sure to be a fun one for Harm. His attachment to the Tomcat was going to make the evolution to the Hornet an uneasy one for the Skipper of Fightertown. Keeter had qualified him on the Hornet after he'd transferred out and he actually found flying the Super Hornet an enjoyable experience...but that still didn't make it a Tomcat. When it came to the Hornet, Harm's top instructors were Rattler, Prowler and Dutch. Their primary aircraft from their training at Pensacola had been F-18s, Rattler was supposed to be the best Rhino instructor that the Navy had to offer. The weapons payload on a Rhino was ideally suited to Rattler's style of flying. It didn't have the kind of top end speed that the Tomcat, which put pilots like Harm or Priest at a disadvantage because it reduced their propensity to rely on their superior instincts and intelligence.

Harm watched Rattler running a tutorial for this class of pilots and F-18 Weapons officers down in the hangar. Tom Boone had gone home last week after doing a run in the F-5. The CAG had always said that after shooting down as many MIGs as he had in his career, he kind of wanted to see how the other half lived by going up in the adversary training aircraft. That was the kind of role that Harm would be taking while the F-18 class was at Fallon. With Rattler and either Prowler or Dutch going up to lead the Hornet recruits, Harm would be joining Keeter, Priest and Spartan as adversary trainers.

Morning tutorials were often more for the weapons officers than they were for the pilots. Good weapons officers in the backseat were often enough to guide a young pilot through a mission and advise him or her on how best to take down a bogey. Experienced pilots like Harm or Keeter or the CAG could scuttle bogeys without an experienced backseater. But only experience and the accompanying wisdom gave a pilot that kind of skill set. Harm headed down to the ready room and opened his locker. He pulled out the flight suit with the words "Capt. Harmon 'Hammer' Rabb" emblazoned over the left chest and he thought about what Tom had said last week. Had he really never let his dad be human? Had he really just heaped one rationalization on top of another one?

"Ready to trim a few of these Bug pilots, skipper?" Priest walked into the ready room and headed for his locker.

"You bet." Harm laughed to himself. "Can't believe they're gonna make us drive those in a few years, Navy won't be the same without the Tomcat."

"That's true." Priest nodded appreciatively. "But they've gotten thirty years of service out of them. Maybe more than they'll get out of you or me, sir."

"I doubt it, Fanelli, you're a thirty year type. Over-achiever, you'll probably get your first star before you're fifty." Harm zipped up his flight suit.

"Kind of like you, sir?" Priest laughed as he tightened his boots.

"Got something to say, Lieutenant?" Harm joshed as he pulled his helmet out of his locker.

"No, sir." Priest zipped up his own flight suit. "It really true that you took on three MIGs, alone, over the Gulf of Sidra, sir?"

"Was a long time ago, I was just some green Lieutenant j.g flying off the Seahawk." Harm shook his head in disbelief that it actually was so long ago.

"Still pretty impressive, sir." The Lieutenant grabbed his own helmet and the two of them headed for the hangar. "We gonna turn the wire trap simulators on today, sir?"

"Yeah, but I figured I'd give them a little leeway and turn on all four wires. Give them a few weeks and we'll rein them back in to just the three." Harm walked through the door to the hangar with Priest following close behind. "Keeter's late again, Spartan too."

"Y'ever know the CAG to be on time, sir?" Priest looked up at the taller aviator.

"Not in most of the years I've known him." Harm answered truthfully. "But me and our other roommates came up with a trick back in our Academy days, we'd tell Keeter that we were going to be somewhere fifteen minutes before we actually were, so he would actually show up on time when he thought he was showing up late."

"Neat trick, sir." Priest was impressed.

"Not really." Harm shook his head. "In third year, I forgot it was a trick and that's why I've been showing up late to just about everything ever since."

"But I don't understand, sir." Priest looked confused. "If you forgot it was a trick, wouldn't you show up early everywhere, sir?"

"That's what I thought, Priest." Harm inspected his F-5.

"Well, what's the answer, sir?" Priest had to hear the punchline.

"Captain's privilege." Harm replied and the two men shared a laugh.

"You two ready to go early again?" Keeter joined them out of the ready room in the hangar bay.

"Gotta swat these Hornets before we teach them to swat us." Priest laughed as he looked over his own bird. "Nice work, Chief." Priest looked to his plane captain.

"Thank you, sir." The plane captain nodded to the young flyer. Harm knew a good officer when he saw one and he damn sure knew a good pilot when he saw one. Fightertown was a good assignment for a while but for any Naval aviator, being land-locked for too long could make you stir crazy. You needed the salt spray and the stink of jet fuel to remind you why you got into the business. You needed star swept nights on the fantail. You needed to stroll across the deck of a carrier and execute a night trap in forty foot swells, it made you feel alive. You needed to return to the Promised Land. After the F-18 class was out of here in a few weeks, Harm was resolved that he would do his damnedest to get Priest out to any carrier that he could.

1210 ZULU, SATURDAY

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

They'd gone for a run early this morning. She wanted him primed and focused for his big speech at Georgetown University Commencement this afternoon. He'd spent much of this week holed up in the kitchen of his apartment with Sam writing the damn speech, she just wanted the performance to match the text. Nate obviously hadn't been kidding when he told her that Sam was the best damn writer he'd ever known. As they jogged past a Georgetown newsstand, they came across and eye-catching photograph on the cover of _Washington Life. _ Mac tore the magazine off the news stand and began to rifle through it as they finished up their run.

"Can you believe this, how can they just invade someone's privacy like this?" Mac stormed around the apartment.

"Mac, the picture was taken on a public street, it's really not that big a deal." Nate stood in her room, stripping out of his sweat-soaked exercise clothes.

"You're okay with this?" She protested, turning on heel to face him.

"No, I'm not okay with it but I also don't give it enough consideration to get worked up about it." He answered, walking into the living room clad only in his boxers. It wasn't the best picture of either of them. He was in a pair of old cargo shorts and a grey and blue Penn State t-shirt, sunglasses and a blue USS Dwight D. Eisenhower cap. Mac was in jeans and a comfortable pair of heeled boots with a USMC t-shirt and loose fitting green denim jean jacket with a scarf tied jauntily around her neck. Nate knew the scene, it was the two of them walking through Georgetown on a shopping trip on a particularly chilly spring morning a few weeks back. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and started kissing her neck. "See, I think you look adorable."

Mac shook her head. Trying to wriggle out from under his ministrations. "Oh no, you're not getting out that easy." She shook her head. "How can you not think this is something worth getting upset about? We can't even go shopping without having to worry about shutterbugs?"

"Mac, it's not like a pirated sex tape of the two of us, it's just a picture of the two of us walking through Georgetown doing some shopping." Nate chuckled and continued kissing the sweet spot on her neck. "Come on, we've got to get ready. I've got a speech to give at one o'clock and then we get to spend some time out on the shore." He worked his way up to her ear. "AJ gave you leave on Monday, right?"

"Yeah." Mac's eyes had fallen like a couple stage curtains. Damn this man! Eventually she was going to just tie him down and get it over with. It was fair that he could turn it on and off like a bilge switch. "You need me to...uh...help you pick out a tie and shirt to go with your...uh...robe today?"

"Sure, when I get out of the shower." He grinned against the skin of her neck and headed off toward the bathroom. They were comfortable in each other's apartments, it was a development that had happened so gradually she had barely noticed it. It was funny because their places were so convenient. The drive from his place to JAG was actually shorter than it was from her place and from her place, he could pretty well walk to the State Department. Her shower-head was better, but she preferred the water pressure at his place. She liked the shopping in Georgetown, but loved the view from his balcony at night time. Speaking of views, he'd forgotten to close the bathroom door all the way after entering, so when he stepped into the shower, Mac got a view that she certainly enjoyed.

They'd taken showers, separately, and prepared for their little outing at Georgetown University before hitting the road and spending the rest of the weekend on the Virginia Eastern Shore. He knew how to clean up, years in politics had given him expert training in how to wear the Washington costume. She knew that he didn't need her help tying his tie but she did it for him anyway, it made her smile and he loved watching her smile. The two of them piled into his SUV, their bags in the back so that they could go straight from the school to the Shore without having to return to her apartment.

Nate stood in the hall with Mac, waiting for the President of the University and the Chairman to lead the procession of dignitaries out to the dais. "Are you nervous?" Mac looked up at Nate whose eyes seemed to be darting around the room, analyzing objects at nanosecond intervals.

"Well, I'm about to give a speech in front of a bunch of undergrads at a major national university, that's going to get major coverage on national news networks." Nate let out a huff. "I'm a little worked up, yeah."

"A least at the end of it all, they give you this cool doctoral degree." She let out a cute small smile and rested her open palms on his chest. "You'll do great."

"Because I have you here to support me, Mac." He reached forward and wrapped her in a hug.

"Mr. Secretary?" The President of the university walked up to Nate.

"Mr. President." Nate shook his hand. "May I present Sarah MacKenzie."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Mac shook the elder man's hand.

"And you as well, Miss MacKenzie." The man nodded. "Well, shall we?" The President motioned toward the old oak doors that opened on to the commencement ceremony.

1920 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

The galleys at NAS Fallon were pretty good. Something that Harm actually had his junior officers to thank for. Rattler had grown up in a Mexican house where his mom cooked everything and as a result. Hash on a shingle would not suffice for him and corn hash tortilla shells were a fucking disgrace that needed to be rectified immediately. For Priest, it had been a similar experience. Growing up in an Italian household, you knew the difference between real spaghetti and Army noodles with ketchup. So, Lieutenant Fanelli had not only taught the Mess Chief to make real spaghetti sauce but he issued an official order to do it every time spaghetti was to be made in the mess. The problem was that real spaghetti sauce was heavy and no one but Priest had the guts built to eat it for lunch before going up on an afternoon flight tutorial.

"I can't believe you can eat that stuff before you go up." Harm looked on with bordering disgust and amazement as Priest wolfed down his second helping. He sprinkled on some more salt and loaded it down with Parmesan cheese. Harm shook his head, this young man regularly topped out every device for measuring G-Forces on his aircraft and almost always did it on a full stomach without losing his lunch. He was almost tempted to have Priest reported to the Doc to make sure that he had a human and not Vulcan digestive system...a Vulcan digestive system? Now, there's a comment Bud Roberts would have loved, Harm thought to himself.

"What bugs you more, Hammer, that it's dead animal or that I don't ralph?" Priest twirled some noodles around his fork and raised it to his mouth to reveal a piece of oregano in his teeth.

"It's not so much the dead animal, as the amount of it." Harm laughed. "Seriously, who uses veal as the meat in spaghetti sauce?"

"My Nona." Priest answered. "And never a sweeter old woman has walked this earth. Besides, I figured you'd be at least somewhat pleased that I got the Mess Chief to eliminate the ketchup part of the meal."

"He didn't eliminate it, just moved it to the hamburgers." Harm chuckled again. "Think I could convince him to make meatless meatloaf."

"Not that rank stuff you served us on poker night when Admiral Boone was over." Priest rolled his eyes just thinking about it.

"Does nobody like my meatless meatloaf?" Harm lamented aloud.

"Don't think so." Priest joked. "Rattler fed his to Keeter's dog, I wanted to take mine back to the hangar and get the Chief to fix it to my missile bay. I figure that food's got to be at least as lethal as a sidewinder."

"Wait, Rattler fed his to the dog?" Harm was thinking.

"Yeah, didn't you wonder why it got sick like an hour later?" Priest laughed loudly. "So who else dogged the mock beef?"

"My partner back at JAG." Harm's voice got very quiet. "She had your sense of humour. Even said that if I tried to serve the meatless meatloaf on a carrier they'd have to unload it with the toxic waste."

"Oh, I've got to agree with her there, sir." Priest laughed.

"Your Nona teach you how to cook, Lieutenant?" Harm wanted to change the subject.

"In a way." Priest took a drink of water. "Back in high school, I was a real quiet kid, I mean real quiet. I didn't say fuck all to anybody I didn't like or know. But in grade twelve, I loosened up and there was even this girl I started dating. On Valentines Day, I wanted to do something special for her so I got an old checkered curtain I used like a table cloth, candles, an empty wine bottle with a couple roses sticking out of it and a mix tape with a bunch of love songs playing on the stereo. I made spaghetti for dinner, first meal I ever cooked and I made my Nona's famous garlic bread. I knew she liked peanut butter, so I even made peanut butter cookies for dessert. I planned everything. She knew for a solid week that I was planning to surprise her. She called, a half hour before dinner to say she wasn't sure she should come, I convinced her to come even just for a little while. She did. She cried three times during dinner, she couldn't believe that any guy had done this for her. She'd had kind of a checkered family history growing up. We had dinner, we danced in the cleared out space I made on the living room floor. Couple hours pass and she tells me that the reason she almost didn't come was that a friend had called her and told her that her boyfriend had broken up with her and her workplace earlier in the day. Not wanting to seem loutish, I told her that she should go be with her friend if she was needed. She came back to my basement bedroom window that night, drunk, tapped on the window and I let her in. She started getting sick, I took her into the bathroom, sat on the tile floor and held her hair back for an hour and a half. Never complained once, because growing up, this was the kind of stuff my old man always told me good guys did. I was out drinking with the buddies a week later, my high school had just won the State basketball championship and I saw her cheating on me with another guy." Priest licked his lips.

"Wow, that's cold." Harm shook his head.

"Yeah, well she saw me. Saw me high-tail it out of the restaurant at supersonic speed and didn't follow. Hell, my own buddies didn't even come after me that night. She called me the next day four times, came over and told me how sorry she was and how incredible I was and how I deserved better and how she wanted to believe that it could still work. I sat there in stunned silence, at what I was hearing." Priest let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Y'ever get that feeling? You know the one, where you want to scream, you almost swear you're screaming but the sound just never comes? That's what I had that night. But I also did something else, something I have never done since."

"What's that?" Harm was on the edge of his seat, getting insight into the younger pilot in whom he saw a lot of his younger self.

"I impressed the hell out of myself." Priest laughed, but there was the shadow of a tear in his right eye. The nostalgia had caught him a little bit. "My first action wasn't to shout, or yell or get angry with her. I didn't call her names and I sure as hell would never hit a woman. I gently put my hands on he shoulders, calmed her down, stopped her crying and told her that I forgave her. My first instinct was to forgive, which I found damned impressive. Then I calmly got up, and showed her out of the house. It wasn't until the next day that I felt the anger."

"And since then?" Harm inquired. His understanding of the young man changed somewhat. He wondered what he would have done in Priest's place in the same scenario. Could he have been as forgiving? He liked to think he would have been. Hell, he almost watched the woman he loved marry another man. But would he have done that at eighteen? Probably not.

"Since then, it's been the Academy and the Navy. You know the type that the dress whites attract, sir. You don't get into marathons with them but you do a lot of sprinting." Priest laughed.

0040 ZULU

JOHNNY JUNIOR'S

CHINCOTEAGUE, VIRGINIA

Johnny Junior's was a seaside cantina on the bay side of Chincoteague Island. It was easily forty years old, maybe forty-five. Made out of about a million pieces of old cedar wood. It had been beaten up by storms and hurricanes but there it stood. It had a patio that ran out over the beach, supported by a collection of sixteen foot cedar stilts. On a clear day, you could almost see the mainland of the peninsula. Mac had slept part of the trip and read a Tom Clancy novel the rest of the way. She wondered why they pulled in hear. The place look a good few generations passed its prime but they pulled in and walked up the cedar gangplank to a front door shaded by a couple wood carved palm trees.

"Well, look who's here!" A short, squat, tanned man in his late thirties came out from behind the bar. "Nate, what brings you back to the shore?"

"A beautiful woman and the greasiest chicken wings to ever kiss my lips." Nate hugged the man. "How ya, doin', Johnny?"

"My daughter's dating the ace starting pitcher from her high school, the transmission fell out of my truck and I gotta have my knee replaced." Johnny smirked. "But the wife is pregnant and the place is booming for business, so I can't complain."

"Johnny Junior, this is Sarah MacKenzie." Nate introduced Mac.

"You know we still get newspapers out here, Nate." Johnny joked. "Nice to meet you, Sarah."

"Call me Mac." Mac told him. "So, a hangout from your misspent youth?" She turned to Nate.

"Not quite." Nate hesitated.

"Not quite?" Johnny Junior questioned, a surprised look on his face. "Me and him ran this place when we were teenagers. My old man started it back in '57. He got a small business loan from the bank and from General Jack..."

"As well as free labour in construction from my father and uncles" Nate chimed in.

"Whatever." Johnny shot back. "And he built this place. Every Ross kid has worked here in the summers. Nate and I grew up together here in the summers, from his senior year of high school to just before he joined the Marines, he would run the bar and I would run the kitchen." Johnny led the two of them over to a picture on the wall. There was a seventeen year-old Nathan Ross, gangly, with a long shag of dark hair and in a green and blue Hawaiian shirt standing next to what must have been a teenaged Johnny Junior and a third, somewhat older blonde young man.

"Who's the third guy?" Mac asked, leaning into the picture.

"That's Preston, Mac." Nate answered quietly. Mac thought for a second, Nate didn't keep pictures around the apartment. She never would have known what he looked like. He was the General's kid. His face had sharp angles, his thin lips poised for a permanent scowl . But he shared that kind of inner light in his eyes that Mac caught in Nate from time to time. Wanting to get away from the picture, Nate hopped over the bar and tossed his tie to Mac. "What'll ya have, Miss?" He leaned over the bar.

"Tonic water with a twist." Mac answered with a laugh and watched as Nate tossed a glass into the air and caught it on his elbow. Without moving the glass, he tossed two ice cubes into the glass along with a slice of lime before lowering the glass down on to the bar and filling it with tonic water. For Mac, the contrast of their pasts was almost too much. At the ages he was tending bar, she was a drunk. "So how were you allowed to tend bar here underage?"

"Cops around here are good guys." He answered. "We'd give them free beer during Orioles games and they'd stay off our case."

"Uh huh." Mac was suspicious as he unbutton the top two buttons on his dress shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

"Uh oh, there's trouble." A female voice came through the swinging saloon doors that led to the kitchen.

"How ya doin' Sally?" Nate looked over at the blonde, slightly pregnant woman who came walking out of the kitchen.

"Pregnant." She groaned. "You must be Sarah MacKenzie?" Sally reached over the bar.

"Let me guess, Sally Junior?" Mac tossed out as she reached back over the bar. Mac watched Nate tend bar, slap every back and shake every hand in the place. He laughed at every joke, and came back with a few anecdotes of his own. Mac laughed and marveled. Nate and Harm were alike in one way, they were in Washington without ever being _of_ Washington. Here, among the fishermen, parents and beachcombers of the Eastern Shore was where Nate was most comfortable. She liked it though, she saw him smile more, she liked the salt spray and the crystal water. She liked how the breeze at night was crisp without being cold. As they walked from the cantina later that night and back out to the car, they were arm in arm, her head resting lightly on his shoulder.

A few minutes down the road, they pulled into the Ross summer home. It was normally hidden by an ivy hedge at the fore of the property. A dirt driveway led off the main road toward the house. The house itself was almost palatial as far as houses along the shore went. It was three stories, light blue aluminum siding on the outside with white frames around the doors and windows. An old teak door guarded the entrance to the house. The door faced the small scrap of front lawn that was the only thing separating it from the beach. Nate opened the door for them and they walked in.

The first thing that struck Mac was how different it was from his apartment. The colours were lighter, more celebratory. There were pictures everywhere on the walls, particularly on the wall where the staircase led to the second floor. Mac smiled, there were pictures of Nate rowing crew for Penn State and in uniform at his commissioning. There were pictures of Beverly Ross when she'd been ordained and pictures of Stephen Ross when he'd graduated from the police academy. The largest picture on the wall was of Preston Ross, the year he won the Barracks Boxing Title at Annapolis. Mac stood at the top of the stairs where the pictures of the children were of their much younger years.

She folded her arms in front of her and looked down into the entry way of the beach house. She wanted to hum, scream, whistle anything to drown out the incessant buzzing of the biological alarm going off in her head. She watched, she swore as two dark haired children went running through the entry way and disappearing out the front door at the base of the stairs. "Hey." Nate said as he approached from behind, noticing the clouds in her eyes. "Where'd you go?"

"I don't know." Mac was honest. He took her by the hand and led her off the landing and across the second floor to the next staircase which lead to the bedroom on the third floor. They dropped their bags on the floor at the foot of the bed and walked out through the French doors on to the balcony overlooking the ocean. "It's a beautiful view." She said.

"Tell me about it." He was standing a few steps behind her. She turned to face him. The last few hours had been a window into his soul. He'd dropped all the walls for her this weekend and she was starting to really understand him, really get close.

"You look at me like I'm all you ever wanted in the world." She leaned back against the railing.

"Maybe you are." He shrugged a little and moved toward her. "I'm glad you're here, Sarah." He stepped in and kissed her.

0104 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

Before he was to get permission to secure, Lieutenant Fanelli would have to report to his CO who had requested his presence. The young aviator genuinely liked his new skipper, he figured that Captain Rabb was proof that a stick up your ass didn't come with your Eagles when they made you a Captain. It gave him hope that the Navy actually offered something when you stopped making fun of the grey-beards and started becoming one. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Priest stuck his head into Harm's office.

"Yeah, Priest, come in." Harm waved him in. He felt a little like AJ Chegwidden doing that to a young fresh faced aviator. "Take a seat."

"What's up, Skipper?" Priest said from his chair.

"Priest, once this F-18 class is done, I'm transferring you out." Harm cut right to the chase and the young man looked struck.

"Why, sir? This is the best duty station I've ever had." Priest protested, the emotions betrayed on his face.

"You're too damn good, Priest." Harm explained simply. "I've known Admiral Boone since I was six years old, I have never seen a pilot out-fly him like you did. Time at a gas station just scuttles what the promotions boards see when they evaluate aviators."

"You're here, sir." Priest pointed out.

"And I'd rather be out on a carrier." Harm shot back. "But they look at my record and they say the same thing, not enough traps, not enough combat missions. As a flyer, this might be where I top out but you've got real potential. I don't want to see you wasting it here."

"I don't see it as wasting my potential, sir." Priest shot back.

"I know you don't but that's what it is." Harm got out from behind his desk. "You're a first class aviator, a great officer. The other officers come to you with their beefs, the enlisted guys love you. Hell, you're invited to lunch in the Chief's Mess almost every day. You need traps and you need combat missions, I'm getting you on to the first carrier that will have you once the F-18 recruits are out of our hair."

"But, sir..." Priest wanted to continue arguing his case.

"No buts, Lieutenant." Harm emphasized his rank and the young man came to attention. "That is all, dismissed."

_A/N: Join our heroes in the next installment, as they all take their stand, down...in...Jungleland!!_


	8. Jungleland Part 1

_A/N: Traditionally, canon for our stories dictates that we use our original casting and have Patrick Dempsey play Commander Ethan Baxter, but after reviewing a few things, we're switching that to David Boreanaz because he looks more like a SEAL._

One last mission, that was all the Navy wanted. It seemed like it was all the Navy ever wanted. He had finished training as a Surface Warfare officer, was supposed to XO this next cruise on a Destroyer with the Fifth Fleet before getting a command. But no, one last mission. He rejoined SEAL Team Two, trading in his Surface Warfare pin for his trident and took his command back for one last mission that would see them inserted into the Jungles of Colombia near the Venezuelan border. It was night time near Puerto Carreno, stars were the only light that helped their mission. It was supposed to be a typical drug interdiction and coca eradication mission. The newest stronghold was outside of Puerto Carreno near the Venezuelan border, the location was logistically difficult with heavy brush and border garrisons complicating both American interdiction and Cartel cultivation.

As they approached the target area, Commander Ethan Baxter motioned his men into position. Using a night-vision scope, Baxter painted a collection of men in camouflage staking out positions on the far side of the coca field near the banks of the Orinoco River. The other side of the River was supposed to be Venezuela. "Looks like a squad, maybe 12 or 15 of them." Baxter whispered to the Senior Chief at his side.

"Something don't feel right, sir." The Senior Chief said through his Brooklyn accent. "Like there's something kind of wonky with calcification in that arm I broke a few years back."

"Should you have sat this one out, Senior Chief?" Baxter became instantly concerned.

"No, sir, it don't hurt. I'm just saying, it doesn't feel right. You know, like how some arthritics can tell it's gonna rain because their joints hurt?" Senior Chief blinked hard. "They look too organized. Don't look like they're carrying AK-47s, don't look like any Cartel guards I've ever seen."

"Ours is not to question why, Senior Chief." Bax turned his head from side to side and used hand signals to tell is men the method of approach they would use in taking the objective. The SEAL Team moved out of the brush and crept through the coca fields, trying to stay as much out of sight as humanly possible. The plan had been to set herbicide charges to contaminate a few hundred acres of coca plants and render the entire crop useless and dead. He remembered this pre-mission briefing, the charges were special designs, if they weren't place a certain distance apart, they'd have the same basic effect as a nerve agent. Commander Baxter and Senior Chief Kovic began setting their charges.

Other members of the team were setting their charges elsewhere in the fields. Then Baxter heard shouting in Spanish and the rapid fire of an automatic weapon which led to a member of the SEAL Team sending up a flare and lighting the area to see what the hell was going on. The SEAL Team returned fire on the offending adversaries before a burst of fire hit one of the charges. "Masks on! Masks on!" Commander Baxter shouted to his men who slid their masks on to survive the effects of the gas. The SEAL team continued to return fire and push forward while still attempting to complete their mission. Their enemies were either dead or in retreat by the time that Commander Baxter was ready to extract his men from banks of the Orinoco River on the far side of the coca fields.

1422 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac and Bud were summoned into the Admiral's office at the start of the day and they took a seat in front of the Admiral's desk after coming to attention and being put at ease. "Last night, members of SEAL Team Two led by Commander Ethan Baxter were sent into Colombia near Puerto Carreno on a coca eradication mission. They were planting new style herbicide charges to kill a lot of acres of coca plants. They encountered resistance, which they supposedly believed at the time were Cartel mercenaries but later turned out to be both Colombian and Venezuelan border garrisons." The Admiral ran a hand over his scalp. "Upon learning of this, the Commander of the Second Fleet, Admiral Hughes apparently yelled so loudly that he could be heard in ComSubPac. He was on my call sheet at 0700 this morning demanding that I send two of my best down to clear the mud out of his waters. So, I'm sending the two of you down to NS Mayport to investigate the incident, determine if charges against the SEAL Team Commander are warranted and if they are, to recommend those charges to an Article 32 or Court Martial as Commander Baxter should see fit."

"Aye aye, sir." Mac answered for her and Bud.

"Good. Now, I've told Admiral Hughes to stay the hell out of your way and he's agreed that he will. You'll have complete access to the SEAL Team, all their weapons and equipment from that night and the Colombian government has agreed to make wounded members of the government border garrison available to you upon request, they've even agreed to fly them to Jacksonville." The Admiral looked from the Lieutenant to the Colonel. "Which brings me to the reason I need you two to do your best work above board on this one. This has the potential to devolve into a major international incident involving our diplomatic relations with the Colombians whose domestic political situation is tenuous and the Venezuelans who don't like us all that much anyway. If this so much as smells of a SEAL playing cowboy, they're going to be calling for him to be hung from the highest yardarm, I need you two to manage the facts and not the politics, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Mac answered.

"Good, now Lieutenant will you excuse the Colonel and I for a second." The Admiral dismissed Bud who headed for the door, more than a hint of curiosity playing upon his spirits. When the door shut, the Admiral continued. "Mac, there's another element you need to be aware of. Commander Baxter was a roommate of Commander Turner at Annapolis, which also means that..."

"That he was a roommate of Captain Rabb." Mac concluded the Admiral's sentence for him before realizing that she'd spoken out of turn. "Sorry, sir."

"Quite right though, Colonel." The Admiral came to the front of his desk and sat on the edge. "If you refer charges against Commander Baxter, the odds are very good that I'm going to have to send Turner down there to defend him and with two of his old friends involved, I would imagine that you would hear from Captain Rabb at some point. I need to know that you can handle what might become a very personal situation, Colonel."

"I can, sir." Mac affirmed without a second thought.

"You're sure?" The Admiral double-checked. "It's no trouble for me to hand this one off to Manetti and Roberts."

"I'm not governed by my emotions, sir, I'll take this investigation where the evidence leads it and I won't let you down, sir." Mac nodded to her Commanding Officer who gave her a wise grin.

"You never have, Colonel." The Admiral replied. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." Mac turned and headed out of the office. As she crossed the bullpen, Mac ran into her investigative partner for this little excursion to Florida. She remembered their last trip to Florida and Bud getting to meet Harriet's parents. Mac also remembered that Harriet had been worried about their not getting to Florida as often as she would like to see them. So, Mac decided to have a little fun. "Harriet can you get us on the next flight out of Andrews to Jacksonville?" Mac stopped with Bud and Harriet in the bullpen.

"You guys are going to Florida?" Harriet's mood changed instantly. "Why didn't you tell me, Bud?" Bud turned toward Mac with a pleading look on his face as if to ask why he must be tortured so.

"Well, it's a very serious investigation with profound diplomatic implications on the War on Drugs." Bud stammered out his defence.

"Well, Bud, if we do decide to refer charges against Commander Baxter then we'll have a few days while the Commander establishes and confers with defence counsel before judicial proceedings commence." Mac pointed out and Bud's expression went from crestfallen to defeated.

"Well, if you do refer charges, I'll talk to the Admiral and see if I can get a few days leave so that I can join you down in Jacksonville for a few days." Harriet sounded like she'd come to a conclusion.

"Wonderful, just great..." Bud answered and moved with Mac toward her office. He closed the door behind the two of them. "Colonel, why?"

"Because you can't avoid your in-laws forever, Lieutenant." Mac chuckled. "Be prepared for a tough investigation, Bud."

"Why's that, ma'am?" Bud peaked an eyebrow.

"Bud, remember a few years back when we had to investigate the Force Recon team at Camp Pendleton?" Mac shuffled some papers on her desk. Bud nodded. "SEAL Teams are notoriously tight-lipped. Each one of these men would die for his commanding officer, they'll sure as hell go to jail for him."

"One of those times I wish we had Captain Rabb, ma'am." Bud lamented. "He cracked Lieutenant Rivers, he went undercover with Force Recon...." Mac shook her head. Yeah, Harm would solve this one alright. He could open the SEAL Team up because Baxter would tell them it was okay to let him in. Mac gathered up her stuff and headed for the door.

"You better bring your game, Lieutenant, because you're about to play in the big one." Mac encouraged as they re-entered the bullpen.

1534 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The meeting was supposed to be for 1000, it was now more than a half hour behind schedule and the Secretary of State was still sitting in the outer office of the Oval Office. Nathan Ross tried not fidget with his hands or fiddle with things on the desk of the Executive Secretary. It wasn't normal for the President to keep the Secretary of State waiting. Commerce, Agriculture, Interior, they could all be held up but State, Defence, Treasury or the Attorney General were usually ushered right in. A five minute wait was the most they were normally expected to endure.

"The President will see you now." The Executive Secretary told him and Nate walked into the Oval Office.

"Mr. President." Nate extended his hand to shake the President's.

"Nathan." The President greeted. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you idling that long."

"It's alright, sir." Nate grinned for a second. "You summoned me, sir, and thus have I appeared."

"I trust you've heard about this mess that's currently being investigated down at Naval Station Mayport?" The President directed Nate to sit down.

"I am, sir." Nate cleared his throat. "I'm a well versed man in a lot of languages, sir, but my Spanish is limited to Taco Bell commercials."

"You're the country's top diplomat and if the JAG investigation refers charges against Commander Baxter to court martial, the foreign ministers for Colombia and Venezuela have indicated that they'd like to be present for the proceedings. You're going to have to go down there and referee." President Andrew Russell paced the blue carpet. "I just got off the phone with AJ Chegwidden, Colonel MacKenzie is leading the investigation."

"Which is the other reason I'm being sent, with all due respect, isn't it, sir?" Nate leaned forward in his chair. "Our desired outcome is that the Commander be convicted so that the Colombians and the Venezuelans don't get any political mileage out of this incident. You know that the investigating officer can't defend the accused which means that having me down there with my girlfriend as the prosecuting attorney creates a psychic wink effect from the National Command Authority, sir."

"Are you accusing me of undue command influence, Nathan?" The President turned on heel to face the younger man.

"Whether you intend it or not, sir, that's what it will look like." Nate responded. "Sir, I will not influence the outcome of this investigation in any way. If Commander Baxter is guilty, the members will convict him on the merits and if not, they will free him on those same merits. I will not go down there and play judge, jury and executioner in a media circus."

"Even if it makes your job easier?" The President pressed just a little more.

"Due process of law, sir." Nate replied almost stoically. The President headed back over toward the Resolute desk.

"Nathan, are you happy with your current responsibilities?" The President inquired lightly.

"Yes, sir." Nate nodded.

"Not feeling left out of the Club because you're only the interim Secretary and I haven't submitted your name to the Senate yet?" The President took a seat in his chair.

"No, sir." He answered in Marine rhythm.

"Because I just figured with re-election coming up, no one in the Senate has any time for that kind of stuff. Primaries are coming up soon and all that." The President gave a flippant wave.

"Understood, Mr. President." Nate shifted in his chair.

"So, these rumours about other political office for you, that's just idle speculation?" Andrew Russell leaned over his desk.

"You know the press, sir." Nate smiled quickly and gave a laugh.

"Well, that's true." Andrew Russell settled back in his chair. "You'll head down to Mayport?"

"Be on the next Gulfstream out of Andrews, sir." Nate replied getting out his chair. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Again, sorry about making you wait." The President shook his hand again before showing him to the door.

2333 ZULU

NS MAYPORT

JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA

After touching down, Mac and Bud had gone right to Admiral Hughes to check in. The Commander of the Second Fleet was still shooting steam out of his ears by the time they got there. He still wanted Baxter's head on a stake but the speed at which he wanted it had slowed from from Mach, to alkaline flats. After getting ground by Admiral Hughes, Mac and Bud moved on to attempting to interview the SEAL Team. They started with Lieutenant Lowell, who said nothing; moved on to Senior Chief Kovic, who said nothing; next they spoke with Chief Petty Officer Grabaldi, who was silent as the rest of them; interviews with the teams other members revealed as much as the first three.

The afternoon progressed incredibly quickly into the evening. The last preliminary interview scheduled for tonight was the one with Commander Baxter. When Mac walked into the room, all she could do was shake her head and chuckle. Ethan Baxter was largely what Mac had come to expect from an Academy roommate for Harmon Rabb. He cut the measuring tape at over six feet, he was well built. Mac could almost transport herself back in time to the Academy in the early eighties and hear Harm attempting to cajole his friend into joining him at Pensacola.

"Commander Baxter?" Mac questioned, stepping into his office. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, this is Lieutenant Roberts, we're down here investigating the incident."

"Take a seat, the two of you." The Commander motioned toward the chairs in front of his desk. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, sir, what exactly was the mission as you understood it when your men went out in the helo?" Mac started conducting the interview.

"As I understood it, it was a ground interdiction mission. We were to be inserted, we were to destroy a lot of coca plants and then we were to be extracted. If we encountered any resistance, were to eliminate them as quickly and quietly as we could without raising any alarm bells." The Commander sipped at a mug of coffee.

"The after action report indicates that you were using some kind of new herbicide charge." Mac looked down at the file in a folder she was carrying.

"Yeah, something the the boys at DARPA came up with. High concentration herbicide that expands like a chemical weapon. Supposed to scorch the earth just enough to prevent the coca from being immediately re-planted. We had gas masks to protect us, even though the chemical wasn't supposed to have any detrimental long term effects." Commander Baxter's eyes darted between the items on his desk. "We started setting the charges in the coca fields when Lieutenant Lowell and Petty Officer Nunez were caught by some men that I assumed were Cartel mercenaries. They were fired upon and pursuant to the Rules of Engagement I outlined before the mission commenced, they returned fire."

"Were you in the defined mission area, Commander?" Bud jumped into the interview.

"We were, Lieutenant. My men and I were on the Colombian side of the Orinoco River." Commander Baxter was almost stoic, a look that they had both seen on the face of Admiral Chegwidden in the past and were sure was taught at Coronado.

"Commander did you know of the presence of Colombian and Venezuelan border garrisons in the area?" Mac continued.

"To a degree, we knew that there were border garrisons within a radius of a certain amount of miles but we didn't know that they were in the immediate vicinity. According to the intelligence reports I was given, I figured that we had a couple dozen miles of leeway." The Commander explained slowly. "When my men were fired upon, they returned fire. One of my men sent up a flare to light the scene and the rest of us engaged in the firefight to push back the assault."

"So, you were fired upon?" Bud led off that answer.

"Yes, Lieutenant, we were." The Commander nodded.

"Commander is there any veracity at all in the claim of the Venezuelan government that your SEAL team was inserted to destabilize their presence along that border with Colombia?" Mac tried to focus on the Commander's ribbons. He was a highly decorated officer, he'd seen action in Panama, Kuwait, Bosnia, Haiti, Somalia, Kosovo and Afghanistan; won multiple awards for heroism in combat including a Navy Cross.

"Colonel, that is complete and utter horse crap." Baxter answered bluntly. "Why are you wading into that stuff?"

"Because every once in a while, even a horse swallows something of value." Mac replied sharply. "Do you have anything to add, Commander?"

"No, Colonel." The Commander cracked his knuckles. "And if you don't mind, the next time you wish to interview me, give me advanced warning so that I can exercise my right to counsel."

"Unless you did something wrong, Commander..." Bud tried to explain but the Commander cut him off.

"JAG charges tend to stick like shit on Velcro regardless of whether or not I did anything wrong." Commander Baxter got out of his chair, reached into his desk and pulled out a cigar. "I'm marked for a sea command a few duty stations down the line, I just finished Surface Warfare training and somebody either at SOCOM or SOUTHCOM pulled me out of my supposed new assignment and returned me to active duty as a SEAL Team Commander. Not that I mind, I was trained to do it and I love it but it's the oddest damn thing to have your designator changed like that without your consideration."

"Well, that's true enough." Mac cleared her throat.

"Anything else, Colonel?" The Commander let out a yawn.

"No, Commander." Mac got up out of her chair and Bud rose out of his. "Thank you for your time."

"Not a problem, Colonel." Commander Baxter shook Mac's hand and the JAG Officers headed out of the room. Mac's cell phone rang and she opened it. Within a few seconds of discovering that it was Admiral Hughes, Mac and Bud were headed back to the office of the Commander of the Second Fleet. Ken Hughes was a tall, thin man with narrow shoulders and long arms, a build that Bud though made him look rather like an orangutan. His silver mane of hair and crows feet belied a depth of experience and wisdom that only years at see and a few stars on your shoulders seemed to bring.

The two JAG Officers walked into the office of Vice Admiral Hughes and came to attention. In the corner, Mac noticed a man with a familiar build and pair of cargo shorts, dressed in a blue and white pattern Hawaiian shirt. "At ease, both of you." The Admiral gruffly waved them down. "Colonel MacKenzie, have you concluded your preliminary interviews with SEAL Team Two?"

"We have, sir." Mac nodded. "But we still need to interview the surviving Colombian and Venezuelan border guards as well as the person from Navy Intelligence who authorized the mission."

"Which, I suppose you'll get to tomorrow?" The Admiral folded his arms in front of his chest.

"We will, sir." Mac nodded.

"What are your early impressions, Colonel?" Admiral Hughes tried digging a little deeper.

"Well, sir, the SEALs seem determined to give us nothing to go on and nothing in Commander Baxter's statement refuted the after action report. If the witnesses tomorrow say anything to implicate the Commander or his men, it would seem very difficult to prevent this from heading to at least an Article 32 hearing." Mac considered her answer carefully. Nate turned to face the two of them.

"I trust you both know the Secretary." Hughes indicated toward his guest.

"Yes, sir." Mac and Bud answered simultaneously.

"Colonel, Lieutenant, nice to see the two of you." Nate grinned.

"And you, sir." Mac answered, trying to hide her smile. Of course he'd be here, she should have figured someone from State would show up eventually. Admiral Hughes just shook his head.

"Colonel, Lieutenant, you're relieved until 0800 tomorrow morning. Dismissed." The Admiral waved them off and the two JAG officers exited the office, the Secretary of State a half-step behind.

"I can't talk about the case." Mac raised her hand, anticipating his question. "I don't even think you should have been in there for my briefing to the convening authority but apparently Admiral Hughes disagreed."

"Fine." Nate threw his hands up in the air. "Where are you guys staying."

"VOQ." Mac answered, silently grateful that he'd changed the topic. "You?"

"One Ocean Resort just down Mayport Road from here." Nate answered from behind his sunglasses. He followed them to the VOQ and tailed Mac right into her quarters.

"You could have called and told me you were coming." She protested.

"I figured you'd be working, I was right." He pulled his sunglasses off.

"What makes you think you can just follow me into my quarters?" She shifted gears.

"That you talking or the regs?" He volleyed back.

"The regs." She answered honestly.

"No one on this base, not even Hughes would say a peep to me about it." He puffed up his chest a little bit. "Besides, I wasn't going to pass up a Florida vacation with you." He wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Nathan, this isn't a vacation, we're here to work." She attempted a protest.

"You're working, I'm here to hand hold. Which basically means that I make sure the Colombians and Venezuelans don't run too far, go too fast, or talk to the press. I'm a glorified babysitter, here to talk to the media, and have diplomatic meetings on the 7th Tee at Windy Harbor." He laughed.

"I'm still here to work." Her breath was getting more ragged as he spun her in his arms and began kissing her neck.

"True, but I just heard Admiral Hughes give you until 0800 tomorrow morning, whatever will you do with almost twelve hours, Colonel?" He laughed maniacally between kisses.

"Not...not the point." She turned to face him. In an attempt brace her one arm against his chest, two finger tips slid under the buttons of his shirt. "There's always work, I've...I've got to try and put the events together and...and understand what happened that night out in the jungle. There's enormous pressure on this case."

"Oh, I know there's enormous pressure." He crooked an eyebrow, to give his double entendre full effect. "You're ridiculously hot in that uniform, you know that?"

She blinked hard. Oh God, she was burning up. Having him this close, June in Florida, damn Navy SEALs! "A couple days." She choked out between ragged breaths. "If we refer charges to an Article 32, there'll be a couple days between the charges being brought and the beginning of proceedings. We should be able to sneak some time then."

"And until then?" He asked, that roguish smile still playing upon his lips.

"This will have to do." She leaned forward hard and crashed her lips into his. He unexpectedly took charge faster than anticipated, and dipped her backward causing her left leg to kick into the air. He brought his right hand down under her thigh and ran it slowly down the back of her leg, stopping just above her ankle. A coarse moan was dragged from her throat and into his mouth. A few more seconds and they separated. "You enjoy appetizers?"

"I damn sure enjoyed that one." He replied, smile planted permanently on his face.

1618 ZULU

NS MAYPORT

JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA

A few days had indeed passed and the evidence put forth by the Colombian and Venezuelan personnel along with the Navy Intel officer who oversaw the mission had been more than enough evidence to refer charges against Commander Baxter. Upon hearing that he was being brought up on charges, Commander Baxter immediately exercised his right to counsel, which was rather dramatic considering the counsel he requested was not even a designated JAG lawyer. But the media pressure on the case, the ever present CNN cameras at Naval Station Mayport and the desire to assure that the trial was as fair as possible. The SECNAV agreed to let Captain Harmon Rabb defend Commander Ethan Baxter in any judicial proceedings but Admiral Chegwidden assigned Commander Turner to second chair with the reason being that Commander Baxter should have at least one JAG designated lawyer at his table.

Harm had taken a Tomcat hop from Fallon to the Mayport Air Station and it had gotten him there well ahead of schedule, so he'd had time to check in with Admiral Hughes and check into the VOQ. He waited for Sturgis to arrive at the VOQ. "Since when are you early for anything?" Sturgis joked as he came walking down the hallway toward his temporary quarters.

"I came in a Tomcat, you made the hop in a COD." Harm answered.

"You had the chance to talk to Bax yet?" Sturgis opened the door to his temporary quarters.

"Figured you'd want to do that with me. Wouldn't want you playing catch up, can't have Mac picking up on any missed cues or thinking we disagree on how to proceed." Harm stood in the doorway.

"So, you know that Mac's prosecuting?" Sturgis laid some of his stuff out on his rack.

"Yeah, Chegwidden told me when he called me up." Harm nodded. "You have time to read the after action report on the COD?"

"Yeah, and all the disclosed witness statement." Sturgis nodded. "If our own interviews go anything like Mac's, Bax might have to change his permanent address to the brig."

"We'll tackle Bax first." Harm suggested. "We get his story, we give him the chance to spread the word to his SEAL Team to tell us that it's okay to talk to us. We might get enough corroboration for reasonable doubt."

"Pretty much what I was thinking." Sturgis and Harm moved out of his room at the VOQ.

"It just me or something about this case not smell right?" Harm turned toward one of his old Academy roommates as they went to see another one.

"I remember Bax telling us once after spending some time with SOUTHCOM that the War on Drugs was like the movie Chinatown." Sturgis laughed. "Might be the scent you're picking up." Harm and Sturgis walked out on to the tarmac outside the VOQ. They saw the Secretary of State standing in front of the Administrative building on base conducting interviews with the press.

"Trying to try and convict Bax in the press." Harm's annoyance rose to the top.

"Let it go, Harm." Sturgis shot back. "This case was always going to get a lot of play, especially in government run media in Latin America. I don't want Bax convicted in the press either but at this point getting into a wrestling match with a cabinet secretary in public wouldn't be your finest moment."

"It's irritating, Sturgis, is all." Harm and Sturgis were headed for Commander Baxter's quarters. "Secretary of State comes down here, plays golf with some diplomats, talks to the press and makes everyone in uniform afraid of what an acquittal will mean."

"Harm, drop it." Sturgis warned as they tapped on the door to Bax's quarters. Their Academy classmate came to the door and his face cheered up immediately when he saw them.

"I don't know if it's inspiring or terrifying that my career and my freedom is in the hands of you two." Bax laughed. "Especially since I can remember some of the stuff we've pulled together over the years."

"You requested me." Harm laughed as he stepped past Bax into the house on base. "Say the word and I'll head back to Fallon."

"Nah, I need all the help I can get." Bax clapped both of them on the back. The three former Academy roommates sat down and went over every aspect of the case from Bax's recall to the Second Fleet all the way to the helo extraction after the encounter with the border garrisons and then they went through it again. It took them almost three hours but Harm made sure he had every detail marked down. He was particularly stuck on how the Naval Intelligence attache to SEAL Team Two could have been so wrong about the placement of the border garrisons. At three o'clock, Harm had decided that Bax couldn't tell them any more and he packed up his stuff.

"Think you can pass the word along to your SEAL Team that it's okay to open up to us?" Harm tucked his cover under his arm.

"I can pass it along, no saying whether or not they'll get it." Bax answered calmly. "Damnedest thing to give so much to the Navy and have this happen."

"Trust me, had that feeling in the past." Harm shook his hand. "It's good to see you again anyway, been a while."

"Sure has, buddy." Bax replied, a sad smile momentarily appearing on his face. Harm and Sturgis headed for the door and Bax saw them out.

"Thoughts?" Sturgis turned to Harm.

"Mac's charging him with manslaughter because she knows it's a lesser charge, the burden isn't so high and she knows the members will want a way out. Reasonable doubt isn't going to be enough here, the only way we can get Bax off is to show the members that he's innocent." Harm slipped his aviator sunglasses on.

"You think he's innocent?" Sturgis questioned.

"I know he is." Harm answered quickly. "I've gone on a few dozen combat missions in the air, I know the briefs you're supposed to have up to date Intel, especially in the case of SEAL teams because the method of extraction is so much more cumbersome. Someone at Navy Intelligence either screwed up and doesn't want to admit it or lied in the first place and now is piling on mounds of manure in the hope that something beautiful might grow."

Harm and Sturgis came across Mac and Nate jogging around the base. "Captain, Commander." Nate and Mac stopped to greet defence counsel.

"Colonel, Mr. Secretary." Harm answered back. "Taking a break, Colonel?"

"Needed to clear my head, Captain." Mac answered, taking deep breaths. "Helps me think, you know that." Harm nodded. "It's good to see you."

"You too." Harm replied, his initially chilly demeanour thawing. "Mr. Secretary, I can't say I think much of your approach in the press."

"Press has a right to the information, Captain and a right to know what the administration is doing to maintain decent relations in South America. Your client's actions endangered a lot of our operations in the war on drugs." Nate shot back.

"Which means he should be tried in the press?" Harm questioned.

"Means he should be subject to all the facets of American society which are involved in the procedures of due process." Nate stood nose to nose with Harm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Captain, Colonel, Commander. I have a meeting with the Commander of the Second Fleet." The officers all nodded and Nate headed off toward the office of Admiral Hughes.

"I'll see the two of you later as well." Sturgis stepped away. "I've gonna head off and see if I can't get a word out of Senior Chief Kovic."

"So, how are you, Mac?" Harm tried a smile.

"You asking as my friend or as opposing counsel?" She replied, wiping some sweat from her brow.

"As your friend, I'm not that callous." Harm sounded slightly offended.

"You're right, I apologize." Mac and Harm started walk across the base. " I've been pretty happy lately. It had been so long I almost forgot what it was like. Is Fallon keeping you busy?"

"Busy and happy." Harm's answer was simple. "I think the desert air is helping clear my head. I've been tempted to blame you for not taking me out to Red Rock Mesa earlier."

"You never asked." Mac laughed lightly. "Besides, you wouldn't have wanted to spend a week out in the desert with me."

"Might have been a fun Christmas one year." Harm smiled.

"Might have been." Mac smiled. "Everyone at JAG misses you. There are times I walk out of my office, turn right and expect to see you there. Seeing Sturgis isn't the same."

"He doesn't have my rugged good looks or gold wings." Harm laughed lightly himself. "I hear you're the toast of the DC cocktail circuit."

"Harm..." Mac used a warning tone.

"I'm just saying, I hear good things." He put his hands up in surrender. "Things that I've known for a long time."

"You know, every once in a while, I still manage to catch you being nice." Mac laughed heartily.

"Good day, Counsellor." Harm nodded to her and Mac smiled.

"See ya later, Harm." She headed off toward her quarters.


	9. Jungleland Part 2

The members of SEAL Team Two were indeed more willing to talk to Harm and Sturgis than they had been to Mac and Bud. That didn't change the fact that the prosecution still owned the emotional stakes of this trial and Mac had built a pretty good circumstantial case. Harm shook his head, something about the interview with the ferret from Navy Intel just didn't sit well with him. An operation like this should have been planned down to the last detail. Bax was one of the most decorated Navy SEAL officers in SEAL History, his team was full of combat veterans, why did this go so wrong? Harm went over the details in his mind again. Something wasn't sitting right, someone higher up screwed up. Admiral Hughes? No, too squared away and too surprised that the whole thing blew up. The rat from Navy Intel? No way, not creative or malevolent enough. No, there had to be someone they hadn't heard from who had a hand in this.

That wasn't the only thing trying Harm's patience though. The presence of the Secretary of State in every available local and national media outlet certainly didn't help. Knowing as he did – likely as they both did by now – how Mac abhorred press attention, Nate had been careful to keep her out of the glare of the lights. Not that a politician wanting media coverage was anything new. There were still paparazzi pictures of the two of them just about everywhere. Harm tried to ignore those, but that didn't really help. He got private displays, like the time he accidentally ran into the two of them locked in a heated embrace outside the VOQ at 2200 hours a few days back. Or the longing stares they would exchange from time to time. Or even the cute little kissy faces they made when they said goodbye. The whole thing was enough to make him vomit violently.

Now he was preparing for opening statements in the Article 32 hearing, seated at the defence table with Sturgis and Bax going over his notes. Every lawyer had their strengths. Sturgis was methodical, detail oriented, even anal, a great inquisitor with no flare for the dramatic. Harm could play to the members, lend a sense of drama and flare to the proceedings and reclaim any lost emotional stakes. It wasn't just the difference between two lawyers, but the difference between a submariner and an aviator. Bud was at the prosecution table going over his notes, he would likely be doing examinations on the witnesses, like Sturgis it was his strength. Mac could own the emotional stakes, and there she was at the prosecution table focusing on the front of the courtroom. It was a courtroom packed with reporters, spectators and diplomats. At the back, the Secretary of State was holding court with the Colombians and Venezuelans.

"All rise." The Sergeant at Arms called and those in attendance came to attention. "This Article 32 hearing is now in session, be seated." The Judge was a Navy Captain, which caused Harm to thank God for small favours.

"Colonel MacKenzie, is the government ready to proceed with its case?" The judge turned to Mac.

"We are, your honour." Mac affirmed.

"Captain Rabb, is the defence ready to proceed with its case?" The judge turned his baritone voice on Harm.

"We are, your honour." Harm affirmed as well.

"Colonel MacKenzie, present your opening argument to this court." The judge directed and Mac rose from behind the defence table.

"The facts of this case are simple. The results, potentially devastating. Commander Ethan Baxter was given an order to take part in a simple drug interdiction mission involving a sizable coca plantation east of Puerto Carreno. While taking part in that mission, the Commander and his SEAL Team came across Colombian and Venezuelan border garrisons that they mistook for Cartel mercenaries and they opened fire. Carelessly and recklessly they opened fire and killed six people. In doing this, the Commander not only disobeyed the orders outlined for the mission but committed manslaughter pure and simple. This was not a soldier fighting an enemy in combat, there was no declared war against either Colombia or Venezuela, this was the needless taking of lives by a man who had the power to prevent so tragic an event. And that, your honour, is what the government will prove in its case against Commander Baxter." Mac licked her lips after she finished her statement and returned to her seat. Damn, that woman could control a courtroom. She could make everyone in the place focus on her, make every man desire her intelligence that gave her such poise and composure, or those lips that spoke so well and so impassioned. Mac was Mac and Mac was damn good.

"Captain Rabb, you're opening statement?" The judge looked to Harm. Right now, Harm felt like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz. It had been a long time since he'd been in a courtroom, it was only natural that there would be some rust, right?

"For the last thirty years, the United States has been engaged in a War on Drugs, the chief accomplishment of which seems to be that we have turned the heads of cartels into multi-millionaire barons. Through my time in the Navy, I've known men and women who've served in and been victims of this War, one of them is Commander Baxter. Now, Colonel MacKenzie is a good lawyer but in her argument there exists a crucial flaw, we are at War. If not against Colombia, certainly in Colombia against forces that have declared war on us and do so everyday in the streets of Miami and New York and Chicago and Los Angeles. Commander Baxter has the second most combat decorations of any Navy SEAL in their history, he knows the enemy when he sees it, he knows the enemy when it engages him, the Commander's vocation is War. So, that night in the Colombian jungle, the Commander took fire and he did what years of training, dozens of mission and countless acts of heroism taught him to do, he returned fire. To punish a soldier for returning fire is contrary to everything we are taught as officers and for that reason, this court will have no other choice than to determine that there is not sufficient evidence to send this matter to court martial." Harm took a deep breath and returned to his place behind the defence table.

"I thank counsel for their remarks, this court is in recess until 1330 this afternoon when we will hear from the first witness in the government's case." The judge banged his gavel and people began to file out of the courtroom. Mac and Bud stood up.

"It looks like a few months out in the desert hasn't dulled the Captain's skills any, ma'am." Bud commented as he packed up.

"No Bud, if anything the desert sharpened them." Mac shook her head. "I'm starting to think that if Harm had been Moses, the Jews would have been in the Promised Land by Thursday."

"Yes, ma'am." Bud chuckled. Mac watched the defence team pack up. In their summer whites, behind aviator sunglasses, Harmon Rabb, Sturgis Turner and Ethan Baxter looked like Navy poster boys. Mac and Bud followed them toward the back of the courtroom, Mac stopped and tugged on the material of the suit at Nate's elbow.

"How'd I do?" She asked, a little flustered.

"A ten." He said with a smile. "But you're usually a ten."

"I meant in court." She protested with a smile of mock indignation and a playfully slap across the arm.

"Oh, well in that case a twelve." He chuckled lightly and wrapped and arm around her waist as they walked out of the courtroom. Harm was talking with a few television reporters on the steps, so Mac and Nate tried to sneak by. Nate's presence made him the instant media attraction, he stepped away from Mac to allow her to continue to sneak away.

"Mr. Secretary, do you agree with Captain Rabb that the Navy is trying to rush a conviction in the name of diplomacy? That Commander Baxter is being used as a sacrificial lamb?" A local reporter asked.

"I think the Captain has a flare for the dramatic and is writing the next great action novel if he believes that to be the case." Nate joked.

"Mr. Secretary, the Captain's assertion is correct, is it not that never before has an American soldier, sailor or Marine been prosecuted for returning hostile fire in a war zone." Another reporter asked.

"I won't speak to the legality or veracity of any charge, it is the job of the convened Article 32 hearing to determine if any wrongful action took place and what the remedy might be." Nate cleared his throat. "The National Command Authority has no position on this case and believes that due process will be played out in accordance with the Constitution of the United States."

"But, Mr. Secretary do you have a position?" A third reporter jumped into the fracas.

"I'm kind of partial to cowgirl, I suppose." Nate joked and the gaggle laughed. "I just want to be on the side of the truth, whatever that may be."

"Then why try the case in front of television cameras, Mr. Secretary?" Harm stepped into the gaggle. "Unless you're trying to exert pressure on the process."

"The judge let cameras into the courtroom, I had no say." Nate shot back. "Nor would I want one."

"The judge responded to a request from the convening authority." Harm volleyed his shot right back at Nate.

"So talk with Admiral Hughes, his office is right over there." Nate pointed over a news camera on his right, using sarcasm to deflect Harm's charge. "Sunlight is the best disinfectant, Harm." Nate gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"For a cut maybe." Harm charged back.

"I think we're done here." Nate moved past the cameras and headed toward the VOQ so he could pick up Mac for lunch. Most of the cameras returned to their trucks but for one from CNN who stuck around to shoot some B roll. "Hey Mac, how about lunch?"

"Sounds like fun." Mac replied with a genuine smile.

"Actually counselor, I was hoping we could do a little negotiating to nip this whole fiasco in the bud." Harm tossed a flyboy grin at her as he stepped in.

"Hey, don't let me stop you." Nate took over. "Why don't we all go, I'll treat."

"Thanks, sir, but I'd like to preserve my client's confidentiality and prevent press leaks." Harm rebuffed the offer.

"You calling my character into question, Rabb?" Nate turned on him like an attack dog.

"Well, I'm not the one trying to railroad a good officer, am I, sir?" Harm punctuated the sentence.

"Harm, you accuse me of influence one more time and I'll turn that face into something a lot less recruiting poster worthy." Nate replied through gritted teeth.

"Any time you wanna go, Ross." Harm stepped up. Then they both swung. And CNN was still rolling.

2145 ZULU

NS MAYPORT

JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA

Once upon a time, AJ Chegwidden used to be able to trust his officers to not behave like hormone charged adolescents. He longed for those days as he touched down in Jacksonville. It wasn't bad enough that Rabb and Ross had taken swings at each other, did they really have to be stupid enough to let CNN catch it on camera? He knew his soon-to-be brother-in-law didn't have cause to fear him, which is why he brought one of the only two men he did have cause to fear with him on this Florida excursion. So, General Jack also got off that plane at the Mayport Naval Air Station and walked right into Admiral Hughes' office where the Admiral was holding Harm and Nate.

AJ Chegwidden's rage was barely contained as he stood to face Harm while the General looked as though several veins in the forehead were about to burst. "Captain when I agreed to allow you to represent Commander Baxter, I did so on the assumption that I could trust you to behave like an adult, was I incorrect in my assumption?" AJ Chegwidden started.

"No, sir." Harm stood stoically.

"And Nathan you're a United States Cabinet officer, so what in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ made you think that the best way to handle your differences with someone was cold-cocking them on CNN?!" The General laid into his son.

"No excuse, sir." Nate gulped hard.

"So what the hell were the two of you thinking?!"Admiral Chegwidden's nostrils flared looking at the two men.

"No excuse, sir." They echoed, both in immediate fear of repercussions.

"This was an act of incredible stupidity, Nathan, what the hell do you suppose is going to happen next?" The General folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Well, sir, I've already been vocally reprimanded by the President who has ordered that I issue a written statement of apology which I've been composing since I got off the phone with him. I also imagine I'm going to have to supplicate myself before the eager horde of reporters some time early this evening." Nate looked like he was starting to sweat.

"Does that sound like sufficient remuneration to you, Admiral." General Jack turned toward his future son-in-law.

"Not quite, sir." AJ answered. "And you, , if I remember correctly this is a repeat offence for you. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"No excuse, sir, I lost control and acted impulsively and foolishly." Harm exhaled hard.

"Ken, where's your gym?" AJ turned toward Vice Admiral Hughes.

"Head down the hall, fifth door on the right." Admiral Hughes answered and AJ nodded. He and the General led the two younger men down the hallway to the gym facilities on base, ordered those inside to vacate. Within minutes the gym was emptied but for the Admiral, the General, Harm and Nate.

"Alright, you two want to embarrass the Navy and act like adolescents, then you can deal with each other the way middle schoolers deal with each other on the schoolyard." The Admiral extended his hand and pointed to the boxing ring. Harm pulled off his summer white uniform top and dropped it off ringside. Nate pulled off his suit jacket, tie and dress shirt. The General walked over to the equipment locker and pulled out a couple pairs of boxing gloves. He tossed them to the two men.

"Fifteen rounds, three minutes a round." The General explained. "Or until one of you can't get back up. Rules are simple. No rabbit punches, no kidney punches, keep everything above the waist and respect the bell." The three flag officers watched as the two men went to their corners.

"This'll be one for the ages." AJ turned toward General Jack. It was a Navy-Marine Corps battle at its finest. It had all the elements of a classic tilt, there were romantic undertones in the battle over Colonel MacKenzie, there were implications for the trial as Harm saw them as being adversaries there, there was a level of mutual respect between these two men though. In what might now seem like a long time ago, they had been friends. They both came in as cruiser-weight fighters. Neither had a mouthguard, meaning that this fight could be over very quickly.

AJ Chegwidden was pretty sure he knew how this was going to end. The vitriol that had been present between Rabb and Brumby the first time he'd ordered this punishment just wasn't there between Rabb and Ross. But just in case he was wrong... "Ten on Rabb." AJ whispered to Ken Hughes.

"Twenty and you're on." The Second Fleet Commander replied.

"Alright, tap gloves, gentlemen." AJ called and the two men came out to the centre of the ring.

"Harm, I'd rather not do this." Nate stated lowly.

"You started it." Harm replied instinctually, without thinking.

"How so? You attacked my character." Nate stated as they tapped gloves.

"One of my oldest friends is on trial and you want to make him a scapegoat for a mission that a green Ensign could tell you someone in Navy Intelligence screwed up." Harm replied, his mitts landing hard on top of Nate's.

"I don't want to make him a scapegoat, Harm, I want to know what the hell happened." The two men began to circle each other. "You're not the only one whose allegiance is to the better angels of our nature."

"So, why all the constant meetings with the press?" Harm was no longer looking for an opening through which to throw the first punch.

"To keep them away from the Venezuelans." Nate huffed a little. "I've been spending the rest of my time with the Venezuelans to keep them away from the press. Think of it like babysitting two petulant children. Have you actually listened to what I'm telling CNN or do you just tune me out whenever I'm on television."

"I mostly tune you out." Harm stated with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I've started doing that too when I'm on TV." Nate laughed. "Gentlemen, can you give us a minute?" Nate turned to the three flag officers who were no longer expecting a fight to break out. They all turned and headed out the door. Nate and Harm went to the edge of the ring and leaned on the ropes.

Out in the hallway, General Jack and Admiral Hughes turned toward AJ Chegwidden. "You knew they wouldn't fight." Admiral Hughes charged.

"I figured they wouldn't." AJ answered.

"Then why the idea?" Ken Hughes was still curious.

"Because those two men are too intelligent to accept behaving that way and you wanted them to realize how beneath them it was?" General Jack chanced. "Nice plan, AJ."

"Thank ya, sir." Chegwidden grinned.

"But why the bet?" Hughes turned back toward AJ.

"Wouldn't be the first time I was wrong." The three of them laughed as they headed for the O Club.

Back inside the gym, Harm and Nate were still trying to sort things out. "What do you think happened that night in Colombia?" Nate turned to the lawyer turned aviator turned lawyer.

"I think someone feeding intelligence to SEAL Team Two screwed the pooch." Harm answered. "But there's no way I could prove it."

"You don't think just creating that possibility in court will get Baxter off?" Nate leaned on the ropes but turned to face Harm.

"On a murder charge? Yeah. But on a manslaughter charge? No." Harm shook his head. "I need to prove that he didn't cause the deaths of those men, I need to give the members someone else who's responsible. They need to be able to blame someone, just not Bax."

"You really think he's innocent?" Nate had to know.

"I've known the man for twenty years, he's one of my oldest friends. He didn't do this." Harm answered simply. Nate nodded his head and walked over to where his suit jacket was draped over one of the ropes in the corner. He opened the cell phone and punched a button.

"Hello, this is the Secretary of State, I'd like to speak to Clayton Webb." Nate stated very authoritatively while sharing a knowing look with Harm.

0334 ZULU

CIA SAFE HOUSE

KEY WEST, FLORIDA

There weren't a lot of people with the clout to pull Clayton Webb off an assignment, the Secretary of State just happened to be one. There weren't many people that Clayton Webb respected enough to call in favours for, Harmon Rabb just happened to be one of them. Clayton wasn't about to fly into the media storm of Jacksonville if he didn't have to but he had agreed to meet them in Key West. Only three kinds of people spent any time in Key West, the rich, the military and spooks. Harm had wanted them to make the hop from Mayport to Key West in an F-14. The two of them might have made nice but there was some part of Harm that still wanted to mess with him, assert a kind of alpha male dominance. He figured if he put Nate up in the backseat, cranked the heat up and pulled a few negative Gs, he would get the same reaction that the CAG used to get when he pulled that trick with civilians. Nate got them the Gulfstream and Harm got to be the driver, so everybody won.

After landing at NAS Key West, they were rushed to a safe house a few miles off base that the CIA used as a halfway house between Miami and Cuba. They walked in to find Clayton sitting in a chair waiting for them. "Only you two would kick over a hornet's nest this big." He greeted them

"Nice to see you too, Webb." Harm replied as he and Nate took a seat.

"Do you two realize what you're doing here?" Webb leaned into the centre of the room. "If you keep pushing this, you'll blow our entire operation in Venezuela."

"Better than costing a SEAL his life and liberty for something he didn't do wrong." Nate answered. "What the hell's going on, Clayton and why wasn't I made aware of it?"

"Well, the Vice President is the White House point person in the War on Drugs." Webb started to explain and Nate nodded.

"And he hates me, which explains why I wasn't looped in." Nate let out a contemptuous breath and shook his head.

"As for what's going on, we started getting Intel a few weeks ago that the Venezuelans were going to support an attempted coup by the Frente in Colombia against the Government in Bogotá. It was going to start with something small, a few men and munitions and some financial support, just enough to get things rolling along the Venezuelan border." Clayton started explaining and Harm's eyes narrowed.

"Bax and his team weren't sent in on a simple drug interdiction mission were they?" Harm rose out of his chair. "You sent a seven man SEAL Team in to intercept the Venezuelan military advisors crossing the border."

"They would have been horribly outmanned, there's no way that..." Nate stopped. "The herbicide. Clayton, that new herbicide charge that they were carrying, what does it really do?"

"Kills coca plants." Webb answered simply.

"And in higher concentrations?" Harm sensed there was something more.

"In a high enough concentration, it will simulate all the symptoms of a chlorine gas attack." Webb reluctantly admitted. "It's nowhere near as damaging, but a herbicide, any herbicide is basically a chemical weapon. We never figured that it would blow up the way it did. I didn't figure that one of the Venezuelans would actually see one of the SEALS, I just figured that the SEAL Team would mistake them for Cartel mercenaries and blow them all to hell until they retreated."

"Yeah, I should have known it was you." Harm paced back and forth. "When some of the pieces didn't fit, I should have just figured it was another one of your blown ops. Who else knew? Hughes?"

"No." Webb shook his head. "I knew, the Director knew, the White House knew, the CNO knew, the Director of Naval Intelligence knew and the SOCOM Commander knew."

"So, one of them lied to the Naval Intelligence attache at Mayport." Nate looked to Harm. "My money's on the Director of Navy Intel."

"Didn't just lie to that officer, he lied to Admiral Hughes." Harm laughed.

"Yeah, I wonder what Kenny's going to do when he hears that." Nate chuckled too. "How are you going to proceed in court, you can't call Webb."

"I might not need to." Harm thought for a second. "Clayton, can you forward the NSA Intel and anything Nate has the clearance to see to him?"

"Well, yeah, he's got codeword clearance, he can see all of it." Webb nodded.

"What are you thinking?" The wheels in Nate's head were turning.

"You work through the documents and give me just enough to bait the hook." Harm told Nate. "Then I call the Venezuelan Minister of Foreign Affairs to the stand, I hit him with it, he'll deny it all. Then I call you to the stand, you confirm what I've told you and drop what remains of the Intel so you back up your testimony."

"And since you're the defence counsel and not the government, you don't have to tell Mac." Nate nodded. "You realize this could get me in a lot of trouble. Not with the White House, but with her?"

"Yeah, but we have an allegiance to the better angels of our nature, remember?" Harm recalled his earlier words.

"Touche." Nate let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He had a card to play now when he went back to Washington, he was for once at odds with the President. Any reprimand he might have received as a result of his earlier exchange with Harm would be made null by the White House having cut him out of the loop on something so critical. Of course, in order for that to be the case, he would first have to survive Mac's wrath once this elaborate trap torpedoed her case in court.

1550 ZULU, THREE DAYS LATER

NS MAYPORT

JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA

The government had finished presenting its case. But for the Ace up his sleeve, the case Mac and Bud had tried would have made him sweat. Instead, he merely sat behind the defence table, Bax sitting between him and Sturgis, his face an eerie calm. Harm turned toward the back of the courtroom, where Nate was standing, speaking with the Venezuelan and Colombian Foreign Ministers. The consular generals of those two countries had driven up from Miami last night when they'd heard that the Venezuelan Foreign Minister was going to be called as a defence witness. Harm thought that Nate must feel a little like one of history's infamous traitors. Humouring a man one moment as he prepared to twist the knife into him only a few hours later.

For his part, Nate felt like 300 pound man trying to walk the high wire. Or else that he was playing the highest stakes game of poker in his life to that point. On the one hand, he was bound to keep Harm's defence strategy a secret from Mac. But she had known from scuttlebutt around the base that he had gone to Key West with Harm a few days ago and she had demanded to know why. If it pertained to the case, and she had reason to believe it did, then she had a right to know. But Nate couldn't and wouldn't tell her. "Talk to Harm" He had told her. "See if he'll tell you, you'll drop the charges." But she had remained obstinate and when Nate had appeared on the defence's amended witness list, she knew why he couldn't say more.

"Captain Rabb, is the defence prepared to present its case?" The judge turned to the defence table.

"We are, your honour." Harm rose to his feet. "Defence calls Jorge Jimenez, Minister of Foreign Relations for the nation of Venezuela." From the back of the courtroom, a short, balding rather rotund man with a mustache rose to his feet, button the front of his suit jacket and walked to the front of the courtroom to take the stand. Mac swore him in and he took a seat on the stand.

"Mr. Jimenez, you are the Foreign Relations for Venezuela, are you not?" Harm got up and walked toward the stand.

"I am." The man answered.

"Sir, the Venezuelan troops involved in the incident in question, what were they doing so close to the border, sir?" Harm began to wind up for his knock out punch.

"They were border garrisons on patrol." The Foreign Minister answered.

"Sir, isn't it true that because of the presence of militias and paramilitary groups in the area, that border garrison uniforms are outfitted with a special marker so that they can be identified?" Harm turned toward the prosecution table.

"Yes, that's true." The witness affirmed.

"Your honour, at this time, the government would like to enter into evidence a report by the lab technician here at NS Mayport who concluded that of all the uniforms he evaluated, not one Venezuelan soldier's uniform had the markers designating a border garrison." Harm handed the folder to the judge.

"Colonel MacKenzie has the government seen this report?" The judge turned to Mac.

"We have your honour." She replied.

"Proceed, counselor." The judge turned again to Harm.

"How do you account for this discrepancy, sir." Harm pointed his question toward the witness.

"They were outfitted with the wrong uniforms, it's not uncommon, Captain." The Venezuelan politician shot back.

"Your honour, at this time the defence would like to enter into evidence a recently declassified report by Naval Intelligence showing elevated levels of Venezuelan troop movement in the area adjacent to Puerto Carreno in the five days prior to the event in question." Harm handed another file to the judge.

"Objection, your honour, the prosecution has not been privy to this document." Mac launched out of her seat.

"It was only declassified by the appropriate channels this morning, sir." Harm offered.

"Overruled." The judge stated. "Continue, Captain.'

"Senor Jimenez, is it not true that the Venezuelan soldiers killed that night were sent in by your government to assist the Colombian Frente in destabilizing government control of the region?" Harm brought out the big gun.

"No, that is not true." The witness answered in an offended tone.

"Then why the troop build up in that region, sir?" Harm turned on that answer. "Why the lack of designators that would have identified the soldiers as border garrisons? Isn't that just one too many coincidences, sir?"

"Objection, you honour, counsel is badgering the witness." Mac rose up from behind the defence table.

"Withdrawn." Harm stated. "I think we know the answer. Mr. Jimenez, do you know what the calibre of bullet was that killed four members of the Colombian border garrison?"

"I do not." He shook his head.

"It was 7.62mm ammunition from an AK-47." Harm answered. "Venezuelan soldiers carry AK-47s, do they not?"

"They do." The Foreign Minister nodded.

"No further questions, your honour." Harm turned and headed back to the defence table.

"Mr. Jimenez, do you know what kind of weapons American soldiers use on covert operations?" Mac rose from behind the prosecution table.

"AK-47s." He answered plainly.

"And why did your men cross the border into Colombia?" Mac continued.

"Because they believed they were taking fire from the other side of the river." He replied.

"No more questions, your honour." Mac returned to her seat.

"You may step down, Mr. Jimenez." The judge instructed the witness. The Latin American press that was present had nearly exploded when Harm had accused the Venezuelans of knowingly violating Colombian sovereignty, the American press was about to get their turn as Nathan Ross prepared to take the stand."Captain Rabb, call your next witness."

"Defence calls, Secretary Nathan Ross to the stand." Harm announced and Nate headed up to the stand from his place at the back of the courtroom. Mac swore Nate in and Nate took his seat both as a witness and as the most uncomfortable man in the United States of America at that moment.

"Mr. Ross, you are at present the Secretary of State for the United States of America, are you not?" Harm started up again.

"I am." Nate answered.

"Can you fill us in on the details of Operation Sugarcane?" Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"NSA gathered intelligence that the Venezuelan government was planning to supply the Colombian Frente with weapons, men and financial support in an attempt to destabilize the government in Bogota." Nate began.

"Would that be these signal intercepts?" Harm passed Nate the papers.

"Yes, these are them." Nate affirmed.

"Your honour, the defence would like these marked as exhibits Echo and Foxtrot, showing the basis for the Intel, the Secretary has disclosed today." Harm handed the documents to the judge.

"Objection, the government was not made aware of this evidence either, your honour." Mac sprung out of her seat, her ire rising.

"Again, your honour, these were only declassified this morning." Harm replied.

"I'll allow it." The judge answered. "But Captain, this game is wearing thin."

"Understood, your honour." Harm smiled. "Mr. Secretary could you continue with your description of Operation Sugarcane?"

"Once it was discovered on what day the Venezuelans planned to begin supplying the Frente, a decision was made to send in a SEAL Team to intercept." Nate concluded.

"But this SEAL Team was only told they were conducting a drug interdiction exercise?" Harm came back.

"To my knowledge, that's correct, yes." Nate nodded.

"But they were operating inside Colombia with the consent of the Colombians, why the need to lie?" Harm questioned.

"Making the Colombians aware of Venezuelan intentions could provoke an international incident, if was hoped, somewhat foolishly, that if the SEAL Team was mistaken for Colombian border garrisons by the Venezuelans and were repelled accordingly, there would be no incident. This of course did not turn out to be the case." Nate folded his hands in his lap.

"Sir, what kind of weapons do Colombian border garrisons use?" Harm tacked to a new point.

"It's a European modification of an M-16." Nate replied.

"And how do you know that?" Harm challenged,

"Because we sold them to them." Nate replied with a smug smile.

"And if they were trying to pass for Colombian border garrisons, wouldn't the SEAL Team have been equipped with those weapons?" Harm questioned.

"Objection, there is no way Mr. Ross could know that." Mac declared.

"Sustained." The judge answered.

"Mr. Ross, if the SEAL Team hadn't been there, would those Venezuelan soldiers have succeeded in their objective?" Harm was wrapping up.

"Objection calls for speculation." Mac asserted.

"Your honour, the witness is the Secretary of State for the United States and as such is an expert on matters of international relations including conflict and resolution." Harm returned Mac's volley.

"Overruled, Mr. Ross you may answer." The judge stated.

"Without question." Nate answered, his jaw firm.

"No more questions, your honour." Harm returned to his chair. Mac rose out of hers. She had been defeated and she knew it but she wanted answers. She'd thought of handing this cross off to Bud but after all that had been said, she demanded the satisfaction of an answer.

"Mr. Ross, I have only one question." Mac stayed behind her desk. "Who made the decision to lie to the SEAL Team?"

"I have no idea, Colonel." Nate answered. "But I know that they'll be found."

"Nothing further, sir." Mac motioned toward the judge.

"Sir, at this point, we believe that there does not exist sufficient evidence to warrant the bringing of these charges to general court martial and ask for a dismissal." Harm stood again.

"Colonel MacKenzie, can you think of any reason I shouldn't grant one?" The judge turned to Mac who wanted to think of something, anything but couldn't.

"No, sir." Mac answered humbly.

"Than this court grants the defence motion for dismissal on the grounds of insufficient evidence to bring the matter to general court martial. This Article 32 is dismissed." The judge banged his gavel and people rose from their seats.

"Saved my six, Harm." Bax shook his old friend's hand.

"Like riding a bike." Harm laughed. "Huh, Sturgis?"

"Show off." Sturgis laughed.

"Drinks tonight? I know this great little wine bar." Bax offered. "My treat?"

"Alright, you're on." Harm nodded and laughed again.

Across the aisle, the mood was decidedly less celebratory. "You sandbagged me!" Mac charged at Nate through clenched teeth.

"No, I didn't." Nate shook his head. "I told you to sit down with Harm and you chose not to. I knew this was going to happen, I didn't tell you because as a defence witness, I felt it was unethical."

Mac stopped and thought for a second. "You could have demanded I sit down with Harm, anything to prevent this, it's borderline humiliating."

"I didn't want to tell you how to do your job." Nate answered. "I have immense respect for your legal skills, I wouldn't want you to think I was second guessing you."

"Sir, ma'am." Bud addressed the two of them. "Harriet and her parents are in town tonight and they wanted to know if you two would like to join us for dinner?" There was a pregnant pause in the room. Nate was unwilling to answer, he just looked at Mac.

"Tell them we'd be delighted, Bud." Mac answered, her stoic expression in place.

0036 ZULU

OCEAN 60 RESTAURANT & WINE BAR

ATLANTIC BEACH, FLORIDA

It was a gorgeous night on Florida's Atlantic Coast. Harriet had left Little AJ with Reverend Ross before leaving for Florida a few days earlier. Her mother and father had driven up from Naples and were very excited about dinner. Bud was just grateful that he'd managed to wrangle Colonel MacKenzie and Secretary Ross into coming so that he had something of a barrier between himself and his mother-in-law. The restaurant really was wonderful and Bud was happy to have a night out with Harriet and some friends, even if it did mean taking the in-laws along. Mr Sims was actually alright, so it prospected as an enjoyable evening.

Mac was dressed in a very bright and breezy summer dress that was cut off slightly north of her knees and dipped into her cleavage with its neckline. Nate stood tall in a dark jacket and light blue shirt sans tie and with the collar unbuttoned. In deference to Mac, and likely because he was still trying to make up for a perceived wrong committed by helping out Harm, Nate avoided alcohol like the plague that night. "So, Bud, it looks like you and the Colonel had a rough day in court." Roland Sims examined his menu.

"Well, the truth came out, sir, so it's tough to think of the day as a loss." Bud answered honestly. Mac had to admit that he had a point. She wouldn't have wanted to put an innocent man behind bars but she did hate losing.

"I suppose that's true." Roland Sims nodded. "Must have been rough for you, Mr. Secretary, though. I mean being cross-examined by the Colonel."

"I was shaking in the chair." Nate laughed. "Mac's tough, I was worried she was gonna tear a strip off of me that I'd never be able to recover." There was some nervous laughter around the dinner table as the topic of conversation changed.

Across the restaurant at the bar, the three former Academy roommates sat enjoying a drink and a light dinner. "Admit it , Bax, you thought you were a goner." Harm laughed as he took a drink from his glass of wine.

"I figured you two would pull it off." Bax replied. "You were always the bookworms."

"Bull." Sturgis leaned on the bar. Harm and Bax laughed.

"You were like a bloodhound on that intelligence angle though, what had you so suspicious?" Bax decided to feed his curiosity.

"Years of working with Webb, I should be able to smell him from twelve miles off." Harm joked causing both of his friends to release a sarcastic snort. "I can't believe the Secretary was that willing to help though, I was sure he was out to have you hanged."

"Yeah, I thought so too." Bax wrapped some pasta around his fork. Harm surveyed that restaurant until his eyes settled on a table in the far corner where he saw Mac, Bud, Harriet and Nate sitting with Harriet's parents, rapt in conversation. "Buddy? Harm?" Bax called trying to snap Harm out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, pal?" Harm slowly turned back toward his friends.

"Where'd you go?" Bax eyed Harm suspiciously.

"Nowhere." Harm planted his elbows on top of the bar. Sturgis cast a quick glance over his shoulder, saw Mac and was suddenly awash in comprehension of just where Harm had gone for those few seconds. A few seconds later Bud had come over toward the bar on his way to the head and Harm saw him. "Bud! Bud!" Harm called, saw his former JAG counterpart turn and smile at him before walking over. "Lieutenant Bud Roberts, I'd like you to formally meet Commander Ethan Baxter."

"Sorry about trying to put you in the brig, sir." Bud shook Bax's hand.

"No worries, Lieutenant." Bax grinned. "You were just doing your duty."

"So, how's dinner, Bud?" Harm inquired.

"This is my fourth trip to the head in an hour, sir. You can guess." Bud replied, earning honest chuckles from his three superior officers.

"That bad, huh?" Harm gave Bud a pat on the shoulder.

"At least the Secretary is running interference, sir." Bud surmised. "I saw you earlier and wanted to invite you guys over but you know Harriet's mother, sir. Having dinner with the Secretary of State and all."

"Always someone who wants to get close to the teat of power, Bud." Harm nodded in understanding.

"Yes, sir." Bud laughed quickly. "Well, I should probably actually visit the head because if Harriet knew I was standing over here..."

"Understood, Lieutenant." Harm shook Bud's hand and Bud dashed off.

"He's a good officer." Bax commented.

"Yeah, he is." Harm turned back toward the bar. "Speaking of good officers. I spoke with Admiral Hughes, he said your orders were changed."

"Yeah, they aren't going to put me out into the fleet. They think I'd be better served as CO of the Naval Special Warfare Centre at Coronado. It gets me my Eagles earlier but it doesn't have as many opportunities for upward mobility."

"True." Harm nodded in comprehension. After the high profile nature of this incident, the Navy couldn't afford to give Bax everything he wanted. They'd kick him sideways and out of the glare of the Eastern seaboard and out to the Pacific. Just as Harm finished up that line of thought, he watched as Mac darted out of the restaurant, Nate following quick behind.

"I...I... I can't believe you did that today." Mac turned on him when they got outside.

"Mac, I tried to tell you." Nate offered. "As much as I thought was ethical. But there's no way I was going to betray what I knew t be right because it would help you win a court martial."

"I thought we had something good going here." She indicated between the two of them.

"We do." The two of them were walking through the parking lot. "Mac, you deserve the best and that includes the best of what I can offer you. If I betrayed my principles for any reason, I couldn't be the kind of man you deserve. I simply couldn't. I'm sorry if I hurt you but that wasn't my intention, I wanted the truth and I wanted the right thing to happen here and I think it did."

She stopped. She wanted to be angry but couldn't. She wanted to chew him out but she wouldn't. "It's just..." She paused for a second, did she want to go there now?

"Sarah, I think I'm falling for you." He stated gently.

"I think I'm falling for you too." She answered, gazing up into his dark eyes as they stood in front of the door to the restaurant. A door that neither had seen Harm come through just seconds earlier.


	10. Born to Run

"I think I'm falling for you, too." The words echoed through Harmon Rabb's consciousness for days. The day after they'd run into each other at the restaurant, Harm had bidden Mac a fond farewell on the tarmac at Mayport Naval Air Station before jumping into his Tomcat and heading back to Fallon. He loved being behind the stick of an F-14, it helped clear his mind. He'd jump to NAS Dallas, refuel and then do the final hop from Dallas to Fallon. He made it back to the base ahead of the schedule he'd set out, which, as it turned out, was just in time to watch the final exercises for the graduating F-18 class at Top Gun.

"Welcome back, Hammer!" Keeter cheered as he walked out of the hangar bay. "Good job at getting Bax off."

"He sends his regards, by the way." Harm told Keeter as he shook his hand.

"The Commander of NAVCENT called you earlier, I was told to tell you to call the Admiral right back." Keeter relayed the message.

"A two star called me?" Harm peaked an eyebrow. "And why the hell would the Commander of Naval forces Central Command call me?"

"Damned if I know." Keeter gave Harm a pat on the back as they walked toward his office. "But he called." The two of them walked into Harm's office and Harm sunk into the chair behind his desk. "Petty Officer Stevenson, get Admiral Eakin on the phone." Harm shouted through the door to his yeoman.

"You really want to deal with a two-star, fresh from a long flight in from Florida?" Keeter put his chin in his hand.

"Can't think of a better time." Harm yawned notably. "I'm less likely to dig in my heels against him when I'm tired."

"Sir, Rear Admiral Eakin on line one." Harm's yeoman buzzed the intercom.

"Thank you, Petty Officer Stevenson." Harm answered through the intercom. Harm punched open line one on the phone. "Admiral Eakin, sir, good to hear from you."

"Even my wife doesn't think that, Rabb." Admiral Eakin's gruff voice came through the phone. "Listen to me, I just got a call from the Skipper of the USS Nimitz. He lost an aviator over Afghanistan to a Stinger strike, worse when his CAG was on his approach, a helo had a malfunction just after take off and crashed on the deck."

"Oh God." Harm muttered.

"Yeah, killed the CAG, his RIO and the Fleet JAG officer. The JAG was on his way to a Destroyer to investigate a DDO." Admiral Eakin let out a hard breath. "I just got off the phone with a few widows...that's the part of the job I hate most."

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded in appreciation.

"I also spoke with the Skipper of the Nimitz, his boat's in the middle of a combat tour and he can't exactly shut her down and return to base. The Air Boss is gonna take over for the CAG until I can get a new one out to that boat." Eakin stopped dancing around the point. "The Skipper wants you, I'm cutting orders for you, your RIO, one of your pilots and his RIO. Who's your best pilot?"

"Lieutenant Mario Fanelli, sir." Harm answered, with a surprise that was barely contained.

"Alright, I'll cut orders for the four of you. Hand the reins at Fallon over to Commander Keeter and for God's sake, Rabb, try not to get anyone killed." Eakin was gruffly dismissive. "And get your asses on the next COD."

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded and heard the phone click on the other side. "Guess you're in command , Jack."

"Guess so." Keeter let out a hard exhale. "Guess you're the new CAG on the Nimitz. By the way, these papers came through while you were in Florida, you've got to sign off on them." Keeter slid the papers to Harm.

"Promotion orders for Priest to Lieutenant Commander." Harm read the papers with a smile. "He damn well earned it." Harm leaned back in his chair. "Commander Keeter, assemble the Saints in the hangar."

"Aye aye, sir." Keeter grinned and headed for the door. Harm shook his head and thought about what his old CAG on the Henry had told him just a few short years ago. Not enough traps, not enough flight hours, not enough combat missions. The Captain had been a very good officer but apparently someone with a little more pull at the Navy Department had decided not to listen to him. Harm waited a few more minutes before heading out into the hangar bay. "Saints at attention!"

"Lieutenant Commander Fanelli, you're out of uniform." Harm announced and his best junior instructor looked puzzled. "An O-4 promotions board has recommended you to the rank of Lieutenant Commander in accordance with your service record and the recommendation of your commanding officer which would be myself." Priest stepped forward, Harm removed his old Lieutenant shoulder-boards from his summer whites and handed him a new set of Lieutenant Commander ones. "Skates, would you do the honours?"

"Yes, sir." Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth 'Skates' Hawkes stepped up and lightly kissed Priest on the cheek. Everyone had a chuckle.

"Alright, now that the pleasantries have been dispensed with, I have personnel news to pass on. Due to an incident on board the USS Nimitz, four members of this squadron are being sent out to the Nimitz to replace them. One of them is me, which means Skates, you're headed out there too." Harm turned to his old RIO.

"Yes, sir." Skates nodded.

"Lieutenant Commander Fanelli, grab you're RIO because you're headed to sea too." Harm directed. "Next COD takes off at 1000 hours tomorrow morning. Be ready and be on it."

"Yes, sir." The three members of the squadron answered.

"Dismissed." Harm announced and the squad dispersed.

1446 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Staff call took place in the Admiral's office as it always did. The incident on the Nimitz had come across his desk first thing that morning and he knew what this meant for his staff. He'd been trying to find a sea duty for Lieutenant Roberts so that he could earn an extra half stripe. That duty station had opened up in the most tragic way possible. But the Admiral's request for a new junior lawyer had also come in and personnel at the Pentagon had obviously felt that they needed to exercise their sense of humour. So, Marine Corps Captain Elena Ramirez reported to his office first thing that morning before staff call had even been issued.

"Before I get into the big investigation of the day, I'd like you all to meet our new junior lawyer, Captain Elena Ramirez." The Admiral looked over the top of his glasses. "The Captain joins us fresh off her stint as the ship's JAG on the USS Tarawa. The Captain is a graduate of the University of Southern California, NROTC and University of Chicago law. Colonel MacKenzie, I trust that you can help the Captain adjust to life here at JAG?"

"I will do what I can, sir." Mac smiled, encouraged by finally having another Marine lawyer around the office.

"Good, the presence of our new junior lawyer means that we have news for our existing junior lawyer." The Admiral turned toward Bud. "Lieutenant Roberts, as you're seeking promotion to Lieutenant Commander, you require a sea assignment. Last night, in a tragic crash involving an F-14 and a helo on board the Nimitz, the CAG, his RIO and the Fleet JAG was killed. Lieutenant Roberts you're being sent out to the Nimitz to assist the NATO Force Judge Advocate on site in her investigation. You'll also be replacing the Fleet JAG on board the Nimitz for the remaining five months of the cruise."

"Yes, sir." Bud snapped to attention. "When is my COD leaving, sir?"

"1500, this afternoon, Lieutenant. I apologize for the short notice but duty calls." The Admiral got out from behind his desk.

"Understood, sir."Bud nodded.

"Good." The Admiral changed tack. "Captain Ramirez, you'll be assigned as Commander Turner's junior partner for the time being. Colonel MacKenzie, you'll be paired up with Lieutenant Commander Manetti for the foreseeable future. At present, I see no other pressing investigations other than those still on your desks. Colonel, as my chief of staff, I trust you to employ Captain Ramirez in the manner you deem most befitting her talents."

"I will, sir." Mac breathed a little easier.

"Lieutenant Roberts, you have the rest of the day to say goodbye to your family and pack for your new assignment because I expect you to be on that COD out of Andrews at 1500 sharp." The Admiral looked over his staff. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." Mac answered for the staff and they left the Admiral's office.

"Colonel MacKenzie, ma'am." Captain Ramirez tried to catch up to Mac. "This is my first assignment outside of PACCOM and I'd like to do well. Not trying to seem like a brown noser, ma'am. It's just that you and Commander Rabb are well, legends among JAG officers."

Mac wasn't sure to make of the new junior officer. "Well, it's Captain Rabb now." Mac started. "And I suppose I should be thankful for the compliment. The best advice I can give you about surviving this duty station is to keep your head up and do your job to the best of your abilities. The Admiral tends to place his onus on whether or not the truth was served as opposed to whether you bat at a .625 clip with your win-loss record."

"Understood, ma'am." Captain Ramirez nodded enthusiastically. "Ma'am, as you're the Chief of Staff I wonder if I might suggest that I take a desk in the bullpen for a few days, I wouldn't want to presume upon an office too quickly. Lieutenant Roberts is likely a fixture around here and I don't want it to seem as if I'm here as a replacement."

"A wise idea, Captain." Mac extended a small smile to her subordinate. "Until then, talk to Gunnery Sergeant Galindez about a desk in the bullpen and assist Commander Turner with the Kreider Assault case he investigated last week down at Little Creek."

"Thank you, ma'am." The young Marine Corps Captain spun on her heel and headed out of Mac's office. She headed into the bullpen and cam across Gunny who was busily working the phones for Commander Turner's case. "Gunnery Sergeant Galindez?" The Captain inquired.

Right away Gunny knew he was in trouble. Working in an office with Colonel MacKenzie, he'd kind of gotten used to working with a beautiful Marine, he had even come to admire the Colonel's formidable nature and move beyond her appearance and allure. But Captain Ramirez kind of reminded him of the girls back home. "Yes, ma'am." Gunny answered. "What can I help you with?"

"I need a desk for the week or so, Gunnery Sergeant, can you help me?" Elena gave a quick bat of her eyelashes. Gunny gulped hard.

"Yes, ma'am." Gunny's eyes searched the bullpen for an empty desk. He hoped secretly for one that was at least in his field of vision. "Ma'am, I believe that there's an open one just about ten feet starboard, near Commander Turner's office."

"Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant." She smiled brightly. "I guess you're sort of the go-to guy around here, Colonel MacKenzie seems to think highly of you."

"Yes, ma'am." Gunny nodded trying to keep it simple.

"So, I should come to you if I need anything?" The Captain double-checked.

"Yes, ma'am." Gunny was blinking hard trying to regain his footing. "Anything." He accidentally emphasized and scolded himself inside his head.

"I'll do that Gunny, thank you." Captain Ramirez smiled and headed to her new desk.

1650 ZULU

GAGE, WHITNEY, PACE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

In a couple Princeton Crew Team t-shirts, Nate Ross and Sam Seaborn took over the gym at the Washington office of Gage-Whitney. "It doesn't bother you that you're able to so authoritatively clear a bunch of young lawyers and paralegals out of your gym?" Nate moved with Sam over to the bench-press.

"It helps to be the managing partner here in Washington." Sam laid down on the bench and Nate loaded him down to 120.

"I bet." Nate stood in the spotter's position.

"You sure that this place is the best spot for this discussion?" Sam groaned as he began to life the weight.

"Can't think of any place better." Nate answered as he coached Sam. "So, what did you find out?"

"A lot of interest from the big Democratic donors." Sam pushed through his fifth rep in the first set. "You'd be a heavyweight if you stepped into the Democratic field in the primary. I had a leak sent to the Post on the condition of confidentiality that inserted you into their polling model for likely Democratic Senate primary candidates. You tapped out at 47 percent in a field of five candidates."

"And that's good?" Nate questioned as he took a grip on the tenth rep.

Sam sat up on the bench, sweat sliding down his forehead. "Good? Those numbers are outstanding. You haven't even declared anything remotely political yet and a hypothetical poll has you within striking distance of an easy win in the primary."

"Good to hear." Nate tossed him a towel. "I had my dad do some talking with the brass at Mueller-Wright Aerospace, if I make a go of this they're ready to cut a pretty nice campaign donation check. Now, I know how you feel about soft money donations in political campaigns..."

"You mean legally sanctioned influence peddling?" Sam got up off the bench.

"But there are only two kinds of big contributors in Virginia politics. One is defence contractors and the other is tobacco and I know for damn sure that you wouldn't want me taking tobacco money and making that particular Faustian deal." Nate wiped his face with his own towel.

"Yeah, well that's true." Sam stood up and helped Nate load down more weight on to the bar.

"I'd prefer to not take soft money at all but getting elected the first time is a tough road to go down, especially with some of the stuff in my jacket." Nate laid down on the bench.

"Let's see, decorated Marine Corps officer, combat veteran sniper, peace making diplomat, bipartisan Secretary of State." Sam stood in the spotter's place. "Wounded in combat is what the media will fixate on."

"How about weekend warrior reservist? How about divorced? How about bachelor? How about simply being a Democrat in Virginia?" Nate grunted as he pushed through the strain. "How well you think all that will play?"

"No Republican is going to come after your military record. I'm not saying that all military records are out of bounds but there's a lot of proof that you actually did what you can lay claim to. Anyone trying to take that and use it against you would be shooting themselves in the foot politically." Sam watched Nate charge through the seventh and eighth reps.

"Is there a good reason to do this?" Nate summoned some adrenaline to continue pushing.

"Yeah, you'd be good." Sam answered simply.

"Okay, how about a better reason?" Nate sat up on the bench.

"How about you'd win?" Sam tried as he sat next to Nate on the bench. "Without looking like another cheap suit in the Senate chamber."

"I don't know, Sam." Nate shook his head as he toweled his forehead. "I'd have to talk to Mac about this. There sure as hell is no way I'd do this without her."

"Well that's good." Sam exhaled hard. "Of course I think you should have brought her in earlier, but what the hell do I know? Duran Duran was topping the charts the last time I had a successful relationship."

"A scary thought." Nate laughed as they walked through the gym.

"What, that it's been some eighteen years since I had a decent relationship?" Sam and Nate headed over to the bikes.

"No, Duran Duran topping the charts." Nate responded with a hearty laugh. "Listen, there may be no way I'm doing this without Mac but there's also no way I'm doing this without you. As I recall, you were the one who initially suggested this little foray."

"Which means I have to be dragged into it?" Sam was picking up speed, which Nate took as a challenge.

"Which means it's tethered around your ankles." Nate lifted up off the seat. "This campaign, if it happens is going to be the political equivalent of the chain gang from Cool Hand Luke,"

"A pleasant image." Sam remarked.

"Let's just hope Mac and I don't have a failure to communicate." Nate tossed off a quick joke.

0506 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

Harm had long ago erased this possibility from his mind. It was never supposed to happen, his ramp strike and retinal scarring was supposed to have seen to that. But maybe there was Karmic retribution, maybe poetic justice really did have a sense of humour. Scuttlebutt always made fast rounds on a carrier, when someone heard that the new CAG was on board, and people seemed willing to do whatever they could do lined the route from the flight deck to the bridge just to get a look at him. Harm led Skates, Priest and Priest's RIO through the bowels of the carrier up to the bridge where the Skipper was expecting them to report.

Captain Kevin 'Karma' Rice was familiar with the record of his new CAG. Hell, but for now Captain Rabb's skills as a JAG investigator and pilot, Captain Rice likely wouldn't be here. When his new CAG stepped on to the bridge, Captain Rice's expression gave way to a grin. "Captain Rabb, it's nice to have you aboard."

"Nice to be aboard, skipper." Harm smiled as he came to attention.

"I requested you specifically, Captain." Karma explained. "Still remember you saving my six on the Coral Sea. You've got a steady hand and you're a damned skilled aviator, my pilots will be in good hands." Karma looked at the younger aviators standing next to Harm. "You all got out here awful damn quick."

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded. "Sir, these are Lieutenant Commanders Hawkes and Fanelli and Commander Fanelli's RIO, Lieutenant Heller."

"Welcome aboard to all." Karma nodded. "Lieutenant Commander Fanelli and Lieutenant Heller, you'll be quartered down with the Black Aces in the Air Wing quarters. Lieutenant Commander Hawkes, your quarters are obviously down in female officer's country. I trust the three of you know the way?"

"Yes, sir." The three officers answered.

"Good, dismissed." Karma nodded and the XO handed him something he needed to sign. Karma scribbled his signature across it and handed it back to the XO. "As for you, CAG, you've got work to get to. Your stateroom is prepared, as is your underway cabin. I realize that there's something eerie about living in the quarters of a dead man but this ship needs you, CAG."

"Understood, skipper." Harm affirmed. "Permission to get to work, sir?"

"Go get'em, CAG." Karma chuckled as Harm turned and headed off the bridge. "Air Boss will be in your stateroom in an hour."

"Aye aye, sir." Harm called back. He headed through the corridors of the ship, navigating his way toward the CAG's stateroom. He'd known the location of the CAG's stateroom since he was six years old, if was all he could remember wanting to be. When he reached the hatch to his stateroom he swung it wide to find a tall female Navy officer with highlighted hair tightened into a bun. "Excuse me?" Harm questioned as he strode into his stateroom. The female officer turned on heel and Harm closed the hatch while trying desparately to contain his smile.

"Commander Kaitlin Pike wishing to welcome the new CAG aboard, sir." Kate stood at attention with a mile wide smile on her face. "Permission to hug the Captain?"

"Permission granted." Harm waved her in and wrapped her in a hug. "There's no way they sent you here to be the battle group JAG, that's a O-3 billet."

"NATO Force Judge Advocate afloat." Kate answered. "I'm the legal authority for every ship and Marine force in the NATO fleet. I report to the NATO Force Judge Advocate in London."

"Who reports your findings to the CENTCOM Commander." Harm nodded. "Figured you'd have had enough of fighter jocks after being partnered with me?"

"What's to say that didn't just wet my appetite?" Kate smiled and let her eyebrows dance a little.

A blush crept into his cheeks and he moved his gaze from her eyes to the floor. He followed that up with a smile and a return to her eyes. He shook his head and walked toward his rack. "I missed you."

"You tend to say that every time we meet up." She returned. "When I heard that the new CAG used to be a JAG I knew it could only be you. But you would have had to have a guardian angel in the OpNavs office or somewhere to get assigned this duty."

"So far as I know, Admiral Eakin at NAVCENT likes me and I know the Skipper of the ship, 'Karma' apparently requested me personally." Harm laid down on his rack and placed his cover on his head, shading his eyes.

"You always did have a way with superior officers." Kate chuckled to herself as she sat down on the edge of the rack "And junior officers, if our first trip to the Seahawk is anything to go by."

Harm lifted the brow of his cover over one eye to look at her. "Those were some fun times, I always did want to dig may spurs into Admiral Brovo for transferring you out."

Feeling a familiar level returning to their dialogue, Kate changed topics. "So, what happened with Renee?"

"We broke up, she left me for a mortician." Harm grumbled.

"Probably for the best." Kate shook her head. "The woman seriously lacked some gravity between her ears."

"Was everyone of that opinion and just neglected to tell me?" Harm laughed sarcastically. "Or is this just you being catty?"

"Could be both." Kate smiled again from ear to ear.

"Mac broke things off with Brumby." Harm commented.

"Yeah, I know, we get the news out here too, Harm." Kate laughed. "Even heard you got in a fistfight with her new boyfriend down at Mayport last week.

"That wasn't over Mac." Harm protested.

"Uh huh." Kate answered caustically. "Also heard that he helped pull your buddy's chestnuts out of the fire."

"My problem, every time I look find an excuse to dislike the guy, I also find three reasons to like him. At least with Brumby I could develop a good honest hatred." Harm laughed and lowered his cover again.

"So, he's good for Mac, is that so bad?" Kate asked.

"I suppose not." Harm shrugged. "But now Renee's gone and Mac's in Washington, and here I am in the Indian Ocean."

"Does location change who you are?" Kate inquired with a sense of adventure.

"Well, there are a lot less women complicating my life." Harm answered, recalling a previous conversation.

0220 ZULU

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

He wasn't sure how to proceed. If he'd had the skill, he would have cooked her dinner, he would have laid it on really thick and maybe ried to win some points before costing himself a couple hundred points. Nah, she would have seen right through that. She would have thought that he was doing it simply because he'd wanted something. Besides, a great restaurant and dancing was more his style. But he loved the way the two of them danced. They were still trying to find their rhythm in other aspects of their relationship, but they had rhythm on the dance floor. They could anticipate each other's steps and movements so well.

So, when he'd come home, she'd barely had time to take off her uniform before he'd shown up at her door. She loved it when he dressed like that. Like he was just sliding off the the garage floor. He wore his jeans and a tattered old green checkered work shirt. When she let him in, it wasn't an exchange as much as it was a flurry. His shirt went first, tumbling to the floor somewhere between her coffee table and her couch. Her shirt went next, landing exactly on the coffee table. Everything else hit the floor somewhere in the living room.

It wasn't their first time, that had happened that weekend on the Eastern Shore. But in her apartment, this was certainly a had her legs wrapped around his waist and her back up against the wall. It wasn't her first time with a man who had considerable strength but up against the wall, in a sweltering D.C summer night. Sweat trickled down her back and slid slowly down off her brow. Her breathing became ragged. Their first time it had been slower, more awkward for both of them but this time, there was none of that. Something had triggered in both of them, with her it was just wanting it, being frustrated with her attraction for so long, it finally felt like the passion was finally getting an outlet and for him it was just the adrenaline of the whole day. It was his for the taking if he wanted it and hearing Sam say that this morning, had just had him running on the sun all day.

As they lay there on the couch, he lightly stroked her hair back out of her face."Well, hello to you, too." She smiled at him, the small blanket barely covering both of them.

"Guess we both had a good day." He smiled at her. "In all honesty, there was something I had intended to come over here and talk to you about, but ya know..."

"Yeah, the sight of me in a Marine Corps tee does all men in." She laughed and placed her chin on his chest. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I had a talk with Sam this morning." Nate started and licked his lips. "A few weeks ago, him and I had a talk and I asked him to discretely measure interest in a possible Senate run. Sam did that and he came back to me this morning with the results"

Nate could feel her tense under his hand. "What did he say?"

"I'd probably win." Nate answered simply. "I'd raise a lot of money, I've got a lot of support and he thinks I'd be good." Nate lightly caressed her back "I told him there was no way I'd go any futher without you and I mean that, Mac."

"Yeah, but apparently you could talk to him about it in the first place without talking to me." Mac tried to keep her tone down.

"We talked about it a little." Nate pointed out.

"A very little and you joked about it. I didn't think you were serious." Mac retorted, her ire growing.

"I was serious when I said not without your support. If you don't want this for us, tell me now and I'll tell Sam to forget it and he will." Nate's eyes held hers for a moment to convey the honesty in his declaration. "Nothing's worth losing you."

"You'd give up a seat in the Senate to have me?" She was taken back a year and a half to the Guadalcanal when she'd asked a similar question to a different man, then as now issuing it not so much as a question but as a challenge.

"I'd give up politics entirely." He replied. "Reactivate my commission and go back to being a light Colonel in the Marine Corps. I don't want to have to, but if that's what it takes... I do want this, I'm not going to lie but I'm not so self-centred as to think I have a right to do it over your objections. That's not how relationships work."

She thought for a second. There were only two kinds of Senators, prospective Presidents and Senators. Prospective Presidents held considerably more influence and she knew that was exactly the kind of Senator he'd be. He was young, charismatic, a combat veteran; every four years their relationship would have to undergo "will he or won't he run" speculation. Could they survive that? She steeled her resolve. "When I decided to date you, I knew what you were and I felt I could accept all of it." She took a deep breath. "If this is something you want, really want, then this is something I want for you. Besides, Senators are less likely to get called away from a dinner date for a national security emergency." She joked as she took his hands in hers.

"You're the best, Mac." He pressed a kiss into her hair.

1201 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

Harm was sitting in his stateroom going over the records of some of the men under his command. His Air Boss and Senior LSO were good men, it was a comfort to know that you had men like that watching the deck when you were trying to bring birds in with rough seas. A knock came at the hatch, causing Harm to look up from the files. "Come on in." He shouted and the hatch swung open.

"Lieutenant Roberts reporting, sir." Bud came to attention. Harm got up and smiled.

"Bud, good to see ya." Harm tried to shake his hand before realizing that he had to put him at ease first. "What brings you aboard?"

"I'm the new ship's JAG, sir." Bud replied. "I needed sea duty as a JAG to get my O-4 and the Admiral was finally able to arrange for a new junior lawyer at headquarters. I was glad to hear from Commander Pike that you're the CAG, sir."

"It was a surprise for me too, Bud." Harm was still smiling as he stood in his stateroom. "This should help make being away from Harriet and AJ almost tolerable I hope."

"Well, I don't think I'll miss them any less, sir. But I do consider you family." Bud grinned.

"The feeling is mutual, Bud." Harm laughed. "Have you told Harriet that I'm out here with you yet?"

"No, sir." Bud shook his head. "But I'm sure she'd be pleased to know you're out hear watching my six."

"I'm sure she would too." Harm took a seat in front of his computer. "Listen, we'll talk in the Officer's Wardroom some time. I was just going to check my email before heading down to the ready room to give my first mission to my F-18 squadron."

"Understood, sir." Bud moved toward the hatch. "Good to be aboard, sir."

"It sure is, Lieutenant." Harm nodded. "Think I might have to start using jet fuel as cologne, can't get enough of that smell."

"I hear you, sir." Bud disappeared through the hatch and Harm returned to his computer. He opened his web browser to check his email.

To: "Harmon Rabb"

From: "Sarah MacKenzie"

Hey Harm,

Sorry we didn't have the chance to talk more in Jacksonville. I really do miss having you around JAG, ripping on Sturgis just isn't the same as clashing with you. At least you occassionally beat me. I know everyone here misses you, even the Admiral, though he is alternatingly buried under piles of court cases and wedding plans. Bud's on sea duty now, assigned to the USS Nimitz, bet you really envy him his proximity to a carrier deck, huh?

Just before I sign off, I...I just wanted to get your opinion on something. Nate's getting more involved in politics and I'm a little worried that it'll force me into social situations with which I'm not that comfortable. Should I bring up my concerns or should I just accept that compromises are made in every relationship and that this just might be one of those? I know you'll know what to do. You always do the right thing.

Your friend,

Mac.

Harm leaned back in his chair and reread the email three times. He decided to wait to compose a reply. So much for Mac being in Washington and unable to complicate his life.


	11. Lost in the Flood

The one thing Harm hated about being on a carrier attached to CENTCOM was that the specified theatre of operations didn't allow itself the best liberty ports. A float in the Med allowed itself time for liberty in Barcelona or Naples, but a float in the Indian Ocean, well the turns for liberty was usually what extended some of these floats anyway. Harm learned that liberty meant something different for a CAG than it did for the pilots in his Air Wing. Harm had to schedule flight quals and LSO quals while they were in port in Manila. His first two weeks back on sea duty had been almost exactly what he'd wanted. Karma was a top of the line skipper, even for his first float at the head of a supercarrier.

The skipper ran a tight ship but he'd developed a working rhythm with his CAG. They were an almost ideal team for CENTCOM's purposes, a couple of young fast track officers with outstanding records and an excellent rapport with their junior officers. But it wasn't just that which had Harm in a good mood about his current duty station. First of all, having Bud aboard was like bringing an significant part of JAG with him. Within two days of his arrival on board, Bud had plastered pictures of his wife, son and the people at JAG everywhere he could in his living quarters and workspace. He was also thankful for Kate.

There was always something with Kate. He was grateful for having her on board. Bud, while a good friend, was still one who tripped over rank and had some trouble simply talking to Harm like a friend. Harm's pilots, really the whole Air Wing was too busy treating him as the CAG to treat him as just another guy. It was the one part of sea duty that he missed. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't about the planes, or the catapult; the trap wires or the deck It wasn't about jet fuel, which hung so pervasive in the air that on a good day, you could style your hair with the vapours if you wanted to. It was supposed to be about having your squad be the only thing between you and a six by three plot in Arlington. It was supposed to be about the camaraderie, it was supposed to be about adventure.

Everything it was supposed to be, it wasn't. They were younger, he was their superior. He could drink with them but he couldn't chase and he enjoyed the chase. Even Priest, whom he'd come to view as a sort of surrogate Sergei, was too detached from the kind of company to which Harm found himself seeking. This brought him back to Bud...and Kate. JAG officers both. The skipper was too attached to his ship, as a good skipper should be, he thought. But the skipper was the only one capable of understanding his isolation. There was a loneliness to command that jaded you. It separated you from those under you with whom you were supposed to serve. You were the only pilot expected to be of a squad without being a regular feature in the squad. He'd done his briefings from the front of the ready room, gotten the expected snide comments from his fighter jocks.

"CAG, it is 1900 on our first night in port and you're still going over qual schedules?" Priest stood in the hatch. "Come on, you can't be that much of a stick in the mud at all times."

"Stick in the mud?" Harm peaked an eyebrow at the younger aviator. "Man, sailors sure have gotten tame with the insults since I was a junior officer. Back then doing desk work on the first night in liberty would have at least earned the moniker of 'son of a bitch'."

"Did not wish to piss off the CAG and find myself doing milk runs for the rest of the tour while the rest of the jocks are doing combat trips." Priest laughed heartily.

"Good decision." Harm got out from behind his desk and grabbed his cover off the wall.

"Besides, I figure as long as I'm in the CAG's good books I've got a pretty good chance of making the most of this cruise." Priest watched as Harm collected his cover. "Who's on the mid watch tonight?"

"The XO has the mid watch tonight, Skipper figures on keeping some of our more troublesome members in line by keeping them aboard during the first night in port." Harm and Priest moved out of the hatch and Harm secured it. "I doubt you've ever been anything but a squared away officer. If you ever were, I'm sure that Italian mother back home that you always talk about would rip you a new six."

"She definitely would, sir." Priest laughed. "When I called her and told her that I made Lieutenant Commander, she collected all my brothers and had a block party in the old neighbourhood."

"How many brothers you got again?" Harm and Priest navigated the knee knockers on their way to the gangplank.

"Six." Priest and Harm both arrived the station for the watch officer. "Lieutenant Commander Fanelli, seeking permission to leave the ship, Ensign?" Priest signed the log, moved down the plank and saluted the ship's ensign. "Five older brothers one younger."

"Captain Rabb seeking permission to leave the ship." Harm took the log and signed out before following Priest down the plank. "You have six brothers?"

"Anthony, Franco, Marco, Dominic and Raff are all older, Peter's the youngest." Priest explained. "All of us in uniform, too. 3 firefighters, 2 cops and a Petty Officer."

"Must make for a fun time at Christmas." Harm laughed as they stepped off on to the pier.

"You ever seen a bunch of Italian sister-in-laws in one room at a holiday?" Priest chuckled. "It's like watching a pride of female lions around a watering hole. Anything that so much as smells wrong and crosses their sight, risks consternation and violence."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, Commander." Harm laughed to himself. It had been a long time since he'd been on Manila on liberty, but he was sure that Priest would know where his pilots had gone to have a good time.

1005 ZULU

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

They'd watched a movie the night before. Mac knew that he never slept through the night, and that he hadn't really in the twelve years since Desert Storm. At the same time, she'd let him sleep out on the couch when he'd fallen asleep during the movie and she'd gone to her bedroom. His meetings with Sam were becoming more frantic, they were considering when to make moves on staff, where to make appearances, when to resign from the cabinet and most important of all, when to announce. True to form, he'd run everything by her if it could affect the two of them. On the one hand, her hesitancy about this idea initially was being mollified by knowing that he would never ask her to do something with which she was not comfortable. On the other hand, it was clear that politics was starting to become more than just a job for him.

Promptly at 0505 that morning, his cell phone rang and Nate rose up out of his sleeping position on the couch and gave his head a shake. The phone rang again. He fished around in the pocket of his shorts and found it. "You got Nate."

"Turn on CNN." Sam's urgent tone was enough to send Nate groping for the remote to the television.

"Why?" Nate drowsily inquired. CNN flashed up on the screen with a banner across the bottom that announced that Bertram Dunlap, Senior Senator from Virginia had just died of a heart attack at the age of 86. "Well, this is big news."

"Damn right it is." Sam yawned on the other side of the phone. "This way you can contest an open seat instead of running against Norm Coles next year."

"We shouldn't take a minute to respect the not yet cold body of Senator Dunlap?" Nate wondered as he got up off the couch.

"Dunlap's an old misogynist who voted against Civil Rights, did you have some kind of respect for him?" Sam questioned.

"No, I detested him." Nate answered honestly.

"So, what are you worried about?" Sam was shuffling around the tile of the kitchen floor in his own apartment.

"I don't want to appear as though I'm dancing on his grave or anything. Yes, he was an asshole and yes, just about everyone who knew him on Capitol Hill hated his guts but it's distasteful to remind his family that he was a miserable prick " Nate ran a hand through his hair in a half assed attempt to style it.

"Alright, good point." Sam stood over the counter on his end of the phone, eating breakfast and watching TV. "I got a call from Governor Connolly's office this morning, wanting to know if you'd meet with him this afternoon."

"Why the hell did he call you instead of calling my office at State?" Nate was puzzled as he walked into Mac's kitchen and fired up the coffee maker. If he was going to be up at this hour anyway, he might as well be considerate and make her coffee.

"Because one of Washington's most open secrets right now is that I'm your political consigliere." Sam shot caustically. "Which reminds me, you could go a long way in Democratic politics, are you sure you want a relative neophyte like me running your operation?"

"Well, as of right now, there's no operation to speak of. But you're one of my oldest friends, Sam and you've got at least 30 IQ points on me, you've worked with Congress before and Gage-Whitney trusted you enough to task you with setting up their Washington office. Can you think of anyone better?" Nate leaned back against the counter.

"How about Bruno Gianelli?" Sam suggested.

"Why would I meet with Bruno?" Nate questioned.

"Because he's good and because I set up a meeting with him for us at Gage-Whitney after Connolly leaves your office this afternoon." Sam pushed that out there.

"You're setting up meetings now? You know I have a secretary for that?" Nate checked the clock over the stove and saw that it read 0520, Mac would be up in about ten minutes.

"Yeah, but you have the political instincts of a dead cat, so someone has to make sure you end up in the right meetings with the right people at the right time." Sam cleared his throat. "The Governor will be in your office at 1400, after you're done, head over to Gage-Whitney, Bruno will be in my office until, in the Marine Corps I guess it would be 1600."

"I'll be there, talk to you later." Nate hung up the phone and poured a couple cups of coffee.

"What was all that about?" Mac stood in the doorway to the kitchen in her blue bathrobe.

"Senator Dunlap died." Nate explained. "Sam, being the astute political operative he is decided that we could change tack with my prospective Senatorial campaign. He figures that I have a better chance of winning a race in an open seat than I would have had if I'd had to fight it out with Norm Coles."

"Not afraid of a fight are you, Marine?" Mac moved into the kitchen and he handed her a cup of coffee.

"A fight, no. But smart Marines don't go looking for fights if they don't have to take them on." He leaned in and kissed her good morning. "You know, it was easy up in my ivory tower at the State Department for remove myself from the gritty and muddy trenches of politics but now, as I step near the arena, I'm not sure that I'm so sold on the game."

"Well, I never thought I'd see this." Mac moved in to him. "You're a good guy, you'd do great things for this country but you're profoundly capable of getting in your own way. I'm here to support you, Sam's here to guide you and we both care too much about you as a person to let you go down in flames on some quixotic quest. But you need a challenge, it's all come too easily for you. The only way you're ever going to know the limits of your capabilities is if you finally test them."

"You must be something completely and utterly outstanding in a courtroom." He grazed her lips again with his own. "I'm not sure I'll ever be comfortable with dragging you into all this."

"You're not dragging me into any thing." Mac rebuffed. "And if at times it seems like it's trailing behind, it's because I'm watching your back."

"What's on tap for today?" Nate wanted to changed the subject.

"I've got my first appearance in court opposite Captain Ramirez and then I've got a few depositions in the Knodel case." Mac and Nate started making breakfast. "And you?"

"A couple big meetings this afternoon, then a quiet evening." Nate smiled. "Hopefully with you. Dinner?"

"Sounds wonderful." She smiled and kissed his cheek.

1340 ZULU

CAFE HAVANA

MANILA, PHILIPPINES

The Cafe Havana still stood right where it had the last time Harm had taken liberty in Manila. Its proximity to the harbour made it a favourite of American sailors and it's dated appeal gave it a pre-Castro Cuban sentiment. There was loud music and a cigar bar as the pilots off the USS Nimitz made the rounds with the local Filipino women. Harm watched as the mating dance familiar to so many American ships on liberty in foreign ports took place. Most of these places knew when the carrier or even the whole battle group was coming into port and they prepared accordingly. Often as not there was live music, the bars stocked up on beer (usually Corona) and women of both the legal and illegal variety came out to meet the fleet.

When Harm had hit the Cafe originally with Priest but the young aviator had gone off in search of members of the female persuasion and while his offer for the CAG to be his wingman had forced Harm to momentarily consider revisiting his inner 25 year-old, he had ultimately decided against it in favour of calling Bud and sitting down to a drink. Knowing that the Nimitz was headed for liberty in Manila, Bud had called Harriet, who had requested a few days leave from the Admiral who had given her Friday, Monday and Tuesday. Harriet would be in tomorrow morning, so Harm really only had tonight to sit down and talk with Bud before he would rightly spend the rest of liberty with his wife.

"Two beers, please." Harm told the waitress as he saw Bud appear at the door of the cafe and make his way over to Harm's table. "Enjoying the cruise, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir." Bud smiled. "Probably more when I see Harriet tomorrow."

"You're a lucky man, Bud." Harm smiled to himself momentarily. "How's little AJ?"

"Harriet says he misses me everyday, sir." Bud leaned over the table. His son was always his favourite topic of conversation. "He's always asking where I am, if I'm at work or what I'm doing." Bud paused when their drinks arrived. "Do you think you understood at his age, sir?"

Harm knew he didn't. He didn't really understand sea duty until he was forced to on Christmas of 1969. "I think there are only two ways that a son ever understands sea duty, Bud. When he experiences it or when his dad goes away on it and never comes back."

Bud paused for a moment, his mouth slightly agape before closing it and nodding in understanding. After all, his dad had done sea duty, but he didn't really understand it until his first tour on the Seahawk. "I guess that's true, sir. I think we worry that things will be different when we get back, you know, changed by our absence."

"Yeah." Harm nodded. Changed by our absence. It was a nice idea, that some men believed themselves to exert so much control and influence over the events of their life that they could drastically change the course of events just by being present. It was a feeling he himself had been given too from time to time until he'd realized that even five feet from a situation, a person or...a relationship, he could never get his hands completely around it. "You know, Bud, I can remember telling Mac a few years ago, that with all your responsibilities. Ya know, 12 hours of work a day, feeding, clothing and changing AJ, trying to work on a marriage, I said you didn't have time to be happy." Bud tried to interrupt but Harm raised a hand to indicate he wanted more time. "I realized not too long ago, that was what made you happy. The rest of us, and I don't know, maybe it's the result of being a pilot, we look out there trying to find happiness. You found happiness inside yourself. You built your family and your happiness with your own two hands. Good on you, Bud." Harm reached across the table and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." Bud looked down at his bottle of beer and tried to play with the label. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"Bud, we're friends on liberty, it's Harm and you don't need permission for that." Harm smiled again.

"Right..." Bud took a deep breath. He hadn't really confronted the Captain with this kind of honesty since that time he'd run supplies out to him at his safe house on that ferry while he was on trial for murder. He took a deep drink of beer and swallowed hard. "You could have had it for yourself, sir."

"What do you mean, Bud?" Harm seemed confused.

"Speaking as a friend, sir, if what you wanted was something like I have, it's not like you couldn't have had it." Bud kept going. "With Annie, once you started getting serious, you did one thing you knew would drive her away. You combined a son you knew she was overprotective about with a Navy you knew she loathed and then you lied to her about it. You couldn't have honestly thought you were going to survive that one, did you, sir?"

Harm was taken aback but intrigued. "I guess not."

"Then with Commander Parker, she wasn't angry at you about going back to a fighter squadron, she was angry that you went about it completely behind her back. By your own admission, that whole episode happened at a time when she kept trying to get you to talk about commitment." Bud took another swig of beer.

"Which she brought up kind of early in the relationship, don't you think?" Harm got a little defensive.

"Maybe, sir. But you didn't tell her that. You did what you wanted and forced her to adapt or move on. Which, speaking as a married man, isn't what relationships are about. Then with Miss Peterson, you dated her for a year and half but you wouldn't take any steps to make it more serious. You kept her at a distance. She wanted you, sir, and if a family was really what you wanted, she would have willingly given it to you." Bud gulped back a final drink and requested another beer from the waitress.

"Yeah, but..." Harm stopped. There was no excuse for that one. He was a good man, an honourable man and if one of his friends had left a woman on the hook for a year with no indication of a future together, he'd have told him he was doing something wrong. Bud's second beer arrived.

"And don't even get me started on Colonel MacKenzie, because I'm sure that I don't even know half that story." Bud took another drink.

"Like what?" Harm gave a snort of disbelief.

"Off the top of my head, sir? How about what you guys were doing on the Admiral's porch during her engagement party?" Bud felt like he'd finally expunged all that he'd wanted to say.

"Good point, Bud." Harm nodded. "Thanks for being honest, Bud." Dropping chaff, that's what Mac had called it. Throwing out a diversionary tactic to avoid answering a question he didn't like.

1907 ZULU

HARRY S. TRUMAN BUILDING

FOGGY BOTTOM

It can be a double-edged sword to know your political reputation. It can both seal your fate and allow you an opportunity to exploit it. Bobby Connolly, Governor of Virginia knew his fate. His dad had just been some poor Irish worker bee that had moved down from Baltimore to Alexandria when Bobby was only two. As a result, Bobby had gone to Virginia Tech and played football along with getting a degree in Computer Science, after bouncing around to a few defence contractors, he'd started his own avionics software company, which went big time and made him a millionaire. This was followed by a foray into politics. But to a lot of people, big time people both in the news media and in his own party, he would always be another neophyte northerner who got lucky in Northern Virginia.

He sat outside Nate Ross' office for a few minutes waiting to be admitted. It was a rule in Washington, the Secretary didn't go visit a Governor. If you wanted something from the cabinet, like seeking something from a Mafia Don, you went and asked nicely. A noise came over the intercom to the receptionist who answered it and looked up at the Governor. "The Secretary will see you now."

Bobby Connolly got up and walked through the door. Nate Ross was everything that handlers wanted a politician to be. He was tall, good looking, intelligent, charismatic and a veteran to boot. A lot of those traits were things that no one but his wife saw when looking at Connolly himself. "Mr. Secretary." Governor Connolly greeted.

"Bobby." Nate got out from behind his desk. "Good to see you."

"You to, Mr. Secretary." Governor Connolly was adept at the political niceties. "You get out to the Congressional Country Club much?"

"Not as much as I'd like to." Nate laughed and put his hands on his hips. "You?"

"Same answer." Connolly gave a chuckle.

"Have a seat." Nate pointed to the chair in front of his desk. The Secretary's office at State was designed much like the Oval itself. There was to be no mistaking that the person behind the desk was the person in charge and you were on their turf. "So, what's on your mind, Billy?"

"Bert Dunlap's Senate seat." The Governor leaned forward. "I got six weeks to fill it before Congress reconvenes. I'm supposed to compile a shortlist but I know who I want."

"Who's that?" Nate leaned back in his chair.

"You." Connolly pointed across the desk. "I want a future within the Party and they want you. It's pretty clear that you want into the Senate, this gets you in. Besides, with 51 Democrats, it shifts the balance of the chamber."

"The Democratic leader in the Senate hates me." Nate rebutted.

"So what?" Connolly laughed. "I hate Hoynes, that's not a good enough reason not to do it. Nate, I'm asking you to do this. You want it, the Party wants it and I'm willing to give it to you. Let's not waste any more time here, I've got shit to do, too. Tell me you want it and it's yours."

Nate dropped his gaze to the surface of his desk. Then he looked up at the Governor again. "I want it." He said plainly.

"It's yours." The Governor gave a pat to the arms of his chair and got up. "I'll have my people co-ordinate a press event with complete contact with Mr. Seaborn's office."

"Well, Sam's a good guy." Nate responded. The Governor turned and headed out of the office leaving Nate standing behind. He tried to work for a few minutes before packing up and heading downstairs to a waiting car and driver. The whole drive over to K street, Nate could think about nothing other than the fact that he was about to be the next Senator from Virginia. When he got to the large, ominous, new age glass doors of the Gage-Whitney offices Nate just shook his head. Normally there would be some discretion involved in having a Secretary walk across the foyer of a major DC law firm but Nate no longer saw the reason for such cloak and dagger.

Upon arriving in Sam's outer office, he was immediately shown in. Bruno Gianelli was a man of average height with brown hair and an exquisitely tailored suit. "Mr. Secretary, good to meet you, sir." Bruno offered his hand.

"Mr. Gianelli." Nate reached forward and shook his hand. "Sam tells me you're one of the best advisors in the Party."

"Very kind thing to say." Bruno took a seat. "He tells me that you're considering a run for the United States Senate."

"That's true." Nate affirmed. "What's your sales pitch?"

"You've got incredible personal popularity numbers, your favourability numbers, including your strength as a leader and trustworthiness are unparalleled. You're young, you're attractive, you're well spoke and you carry with you that whole Marine Corps mystique that screams war hero. You're viewed as being above partisanship because you're a Democrat serving in a Republican administration. I think we could run you from today to election day without ever mentioning the name of your opponents in either the primary or the general election." Bruno leaned forward in his chair.

"Well, I think we may have a development on the primary front." Nate smiled. "Bobby Connolly was just in my office and he told me that if I wanted the appointment to Dunlap's seat, it was mine." Sam and Bruno couldn't help but lean back in their chairs and smile.

1707 ZULU

MANILA HOTEL

MANILA, PHILIPPINES

Harm went for a walk along the harbour after seeing Bud back to the ship. It was the kind of night that most sailors begged for on liberty. You could see the stars as far as you wanted to look. The water was calm in the harbour, there was just enough humidity to carry the scent of perfume into any waiting nostril and there was just enough heat that any activity would make you sweat. Harm was strolling passed the Manila Hotel on his way back to the Nimitz at the end of his walk when he heard a familiar voice call his name. "Harm!"

Harm turned around and saw Kate trotting toward him. "What's up, Kate?"

"We've got an issue." Kate caught her breath. "Shore Patrol is holding a couple of your flyers."

"For what?" Harm folded his arms in front of his chest. "They get drunk on liberty and punch out a couple Filipino nationals?"

"Close." Kate's professional demeanour was unfazed by what had supposedly happened. "They got drunk and are accused of having raped a Filipino national."

"Oh God." Harm shook his head and his lips narrowed.

"Shore Patrol called me a half hour ago, I've been trying to get a hold of you ever since." Kate and Harm continued walking toward the ship. "The NCIS investigator on board the ship left the second we got the call. He's doing an investigation right now, I'm keeping tabs on it but Shore Patrol is holding your aviators on board ship. They want to speak to a lawyer."

"I dropped Bud off at the Nimitz an hour and a half ago. Why didn't you just call back to the ship and have Bud assigned as defense counsel?" Harm's eyes scanned the harbour to find the silhouette of the Nimitz in the distance on the pier.

"I tried, the two of them discharged Bud as counsel the second he was assigned." Kate was trying to keep up with Harm's long gate.

"Why in the hell would they do a damn stupid thing like that?" Harm stopped and turned to look at Kate.

"Because they want you to defend them." Kate shot back.

"I try more cases since I've been assigned to the fleet again than I did at JAG." Harm grumbled. "What did the NATO Force Judge Advocate in London say?"

"That you'd better do it and that we'd better get this matter settled fast because the last thing we want is an extended stay in Manila with inflamed passions around the case. Especially since we're supposed to be providing forward air cover in Afghanistan So, I'm prosecuting, you're defending and the Force JAG has assigned Bud as your second chair. He said that the pilots deserved at least one lawyer still sanctioned by the Navy to practice law." Kate and Harm continued their walk toward the ship.

"We're proceeding directly to court martial?" Harm tried to contain his outrage.

"Both the Force JAG, the Skipper and I figure it's best. It'll nip this thing in the bud before it becomes a public relations catastrophe for the Navy." Kate and Harm neared the gangplank.

"Playing fast and loose with my client's rights, counselor?" Harm looked over his shoulder as they climbed the gangplank.

"Extenuating circumstances, sir." Kate replied. Both of them stopped at the top where they were met by the watch officer.

"Captain Rabb and Commander Pike seeking permission to come aboard." Harm turned his glare on the watch officer who trembled slightly.

"Permission granted." The watch officer answered. Harm and Kate turned, saluted the Naval Ensign and went aboard. Harm was silent his whole march down to the brig. When he opened the door, he found the Sergeant at Arms guarding the two prisoners.

"Alright, Marine, take a hike, I've got to talk to these two." Harm ordered and the Sergeant disappeared through the hatch. Harm secured the hatch and turned back on the two aviators. Both were Super Hornet pilots. "Alright, what happened?"

"Sir, we had just solicited sex from this local hooker and when the police raided this building she began to scream 'rape', sir." One of the terrified young Lieutenant j.g's offered. "So, we both got dressed and turned tail and run. But we ran into Shore Patrol just outside the building and they nabbed us."

"So, the sex was contractual?" Harm questioned.

"Yes, sir." The other young Lieutenant answered.

"But you two were attempting to both engage with one prostitute?" Harm pushed past the allegation.

"Yes, sir." Both men answered.

"At the same time?" Harm sounded shocked.

"Yes, sir." This time more than a hint of embarrassment coloured both their voices.

"Did you two at any time engage in any other crimes including but not limited to adultery or homosexual conduct?" Harm had to tread lightly here. As their CO, Navy regs prevented him from asking if they were gay but as their lawyer he needed to know in order to anticipate Kate's case.

"No, sir." They both answered.

"Alright." Harm ran a hand through his hair. Getting the members to acquit sailors accused of rape was always a task. Getting the members to acquit sailors accused of rape who were willing to admit to an act of group sex would be like trying to single-handedly pull the Nimitz along the harbour-front.

0255 ZULU

NATE'S APARTMENT

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Mac had gotten a return email from Harm about a week ago. He'd told her almost exactly what she'd expected. That relationships were animals built of compromise. That if one party gave too much and the other party didn't reciprocate in some way, they would grow to despise each other. Mac was sure that the sea air cleared Harm's mind in a way that nothing else ever could. She was on her way over to his place after a long day at work. She was a little upset that Harm had responded to her email, outlined his answer to her question and even talked about some of the pilots working for him but never mentioned his transfer out to the Nimitz. Had Harriet not passed along info from one of Bud's emails, Mac likely would have simply assumed he was still out at Fallon. She knew what would happen if she'd confronted him about it too. He'd say that he knew that she worried when he was on a carrier and that he didn't want her to needlessly worry.

She stood outside the door to Nate's apartment. Compromise. The word du jour. She knocked on the door and hear his friendly tenor bid her entrance. When she walked in she found the lights dimmed in the living room at the end of the hallway. The music cued up and the stereo began to play "Be Our Guest" from the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack. She walked in and found a couple meals set out on the table with a solitary candle between them. "Hey, Mac." Nate appeared wearing a dark suit over a black dress shirt and no tie.

"You can't cook." Was the only response she could think of that would maintain her trademark Marine stoicism at this moment.

"True." He nodded. "But I can dial a phone for take-out. The food is courtesy of a little place I know in the Greek district, the presentation is all me."

Mac walked over and saw the wine glasses filled with a suspicious purple liquid. "Nate, wine?"

"Not quite." He smiled fondly. He produced a chubby bottle from behind his back that was wrapped in a towel. He whipped off the towel to reveal the label. "Welch's Grape Juice, I hear it's a fantastic vintage." She had to laugh at his consideration and also at his humour.

"What am I going to do with you?" She was wearing a fond smile.

"Oh, I can think of a few things, Colonel." He stepped into her, roped his arms around her waist and placed a kiss on her lips. "Mac, there's something you should know. I met with Governor Connolly this afternoon."

"And?" Mac's doe brown eyes peered right into his own.

"He's appointing me to Bert Dunlap's seat." Nate told her, taking her hands softly in his own. "As of Friday, I will no longer be the Secretary of State, I'll be the Junior Senator from Virginia." He pulled her in for a hug. She was conflicted. On the one hand, this allowed them to forgo the hustle of an elongated campaign season. On the other hand, she had been hoping to use the campaign as a test period for whether she could survive in this relationship if he was going to enter the gladiatorial arena of Congress with the constant press attention that came with that. Then a knock came at the door. Their gaze broke for a second. Nate shut off the stereo and rolled his eyes before heading over to the door.

He checked the peephole and swung it open. There stood a woman and three boys. The oldest looked in his early to mid teens, the next about eight or ten and the youngest maybe five. Mac recognized the middle child and the woman from meeting Nate's family several months earlier. "Lily?" Nate's voice expressed an untold amount of shock.


	12. Local Hero

"Lily?" Nate's voice was dripping with shock. Before him stood his sister-in-law and his nephews. Her hair was tousled, she had been crying, her arms were bruised and there was an abrasion developing under her left eye. "Oh God, come in, come in." Nate stood aside and the four people entered his apartment. "Mac, I think you've met Lily and Simon before. This is her oldest Billy and her youngest, Owen." Nate introduced them to Mac as he turned on the lights in the living room.

Lily was married to Nate's brother Stephen, though Mac recognized the bruises instantly and recognized that marriage was likely about to come to a very abrupt end. "I'll go grab some ice from the freezer." Mac headed into the kitchen and Nate sat Lily down on the couch.

"What happened." He asked her as he paced the floor in the living room.

"I don't really know." Lily shook her head. She was a fairly tall woman, coming in around five-foot-eight. She was what you might describe as willowy with very fair skin and natural blonde hair that fell straight down past her shoulders. "He came home from the precinct, he'd had a rough day. We started talking about the kids' school. I tried to get him to talk about work but you know how your brother is. I don't know, maybe I questioned him a little too hard, because he grabbed me and pushed me against the cabinets."

Mac walked back in with the ice pack and handed it to her. "Thanks, Mac." Lily put the pack against her eye.

"Hey boys, why don't you go watch TV in my room, okay?" Nate addressed his nephews who nodded slowly before scurrying off down the hallway.

"Had he been drinking?" Mac asked as she took a seat on the couch facing Lily.

"Well, he normally gets a drink or two with the guys in his precinct before heading home." Lily let out a hard breath. "It's never been a problem before."

"Never?" Nate questioned, his arms folded in front of his chest.

Lily licked her lips and avoided Nate's piercing eyes, choosing Mac's more comforting expression. "This one time...a couple years ago. He came home and started shouting. He accused me of having an affair, of being lazy because I stayed home with the kids." Lily fought to hold back tears, she shook her head hard from side to side. "I started to argue back but he backhanded me across the cheek. I didn't think he meant to at the time, it just looked like something had snapped inside him. This was just after..."

"After what?" Mac looked from Nate to Lily.

"My brother was one of the first DC cops to respond when the plane hit the Pentagon." Nate didn't look at Mac, his eyes were fixed on a spot on the carpet. "He helped some of the fire crews pull people out. He was kind of shaken up for a few months afterward."

"Oh..." Mac nodded. "But that doesn't give him any right..."

"No it doesn't." Nate agreed with her. He finally turned his head sideways from the carpet to meet her eyes.

"He apologized, so profusely at the time. He sobbed, he cried. I'd never seen him break emotionally like that." Lily barely held back a few tears of her own. "But tonight, oh tonight I knew that wasn't a mistake. Tonight I saw the hate in his eyes."

"What did he do?" Mac asked, putting her hand on the other woman's knee.

"After he pushed me back against the cabinets, he saw a paper of Billy's that I'd put on the fridge that day because he'd gotten a really good mark on it. The paper was about who his personal hero was and Billy picked you." She looked up at Nate who hung his head. "And all Stephen could go on about was why didn't Billy pick his dad, ya know? Wasn't being a DC cop good enough and how he'd been there on 9/11, that kind of stuff. Then he accused me of turning his son against him. That's when he punched me." She indicated the ice pack on her eye.

Mac turned to look into Nate's eyes. She could tell that his own temperature was burning hot. "Did you just leave right then?" Mac tried to make sure Lily got it all out and didn't hold anything back.

"No, I tried but Stephen wouldn't let me." Lily looked into Mac's eyes again. "He just kept shouting and shouting. That's when Billy walked into the kitchen."

"Did he see anything?" Mac asked, she could remember her own youth, the abuse and the scars it had left her with.

"Stephen was about to...ya know...again but Billy got between us, leaned back and hit him." Lily's voice cracked. She was ashamed that her oldest son had been forced to stick up for her.

"Jesus, he's only 14." Nate gasped and went into the entry way to grab his keys off the hook. "Mac, can I talk to you for a minute?" Mac got up and walked over. "Listen, I've got to take care of something." She grabbed him by the sleeve.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mac gave him a stern look. "You're going to respond to an incident of domestic violence by beating the hell out of your brother?"

"Mac, listen to me, I love you but you don't know how this works." Nate took her hands in his. "My brother is a DC cop and a 9/11 hero. Lily calls in charges and the sheet will mysteriously get lost and never processed. She's going to be running into a big blue wall because the cops will never investigate one of their own. Especially not a sergeant with Stephen's jacket. They'd investigate the Pope first. So, he needs to know there are consequences for his actions."

"You're telling me this is the only way?" Truth be told, Mac almost wanted to go with him.

"Maybe not. I'll call my dad and AJ on my way over to Stephen's and see if they can think of something. My dad will probably just want to help." Nate kissed her forehead. "I'll be back later and I hate to impose this on you, but do you think I could take care of her until I get back? It's late, the boys will probably be out like lights but she's gonna have a rough go over the next couple hours."

"You don't even have to ask." Mac gently brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. She despised violence and vigilantism, it meant that what she had dedicated her life to, the system of justice, had failed. But she had to admit it would here. Nate was right, there could be no justice delivered by courts and cops for Lily and her kids. The closest she would get is the quiet knowledge that her husband was likely about to go through a degrading and demoralizing kind of hell, knowing that his older brother even though they were 38 and 32 respectively, could still make him feel like a crying eight year-old hiding in the backyard.

0505 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

MANILA HARBOUR

"Couple flyers get horny on liberty and endanger a port of call agreement." Harm threw his interview notes down in front of him and rubbed his temples. "I'm afraid this is going to ruin your liberty with Harriet, Bud."

"Yes, sir." Bud was understandably crestfallen.

"This whole case is going to hinge on the rape kit." Harm wanted to shut off the desk lamp but thought better of it. "Otherwise it's just a case of she said, they said and even if they're guilty, they'll walk."

"We're defending them, sir, it's in their interest that they walk." Bud pointed out.

"We're officers of the court, Bud." Harm looked to the junior officer. "Our ultimate goal is the truth. If these guys are guilty, whether they're found that way or not in court, I sure as hell don't want them in my Air Wing."

"Do you think you can offer them a defence to the best of your capabilities in that case, sir?" Bud chanced.

"Questioning my ability to be impartial, Bud?" Harm was once again shocked.

"Not at all, sir. But you need to separate so many more elements to be effective trial counsel in this case. You need to separate what you think of them as pilots from what you think of them as officers from what you think of them as men from what you think of them as people." Bud explained. "You're the CAG, sir and by all accounts you're a good one. I nearly mistook you for Admiral Boone the other day, especially since you've decided to let the moustache grow."

"You don't think it looks like an errant caterpillar?" Harm subconsciously raised his fingers to his upper lip. "Because I haven't been able to grow a good mustache since the Academy."

"Looks fine, sir." Bud laughed. "My point is that you're so set around here as the CAG that you might have a hard time separating the interests of the Air Wing from the interests of our clients."

"I understand where you're coming from, Bud." Harm nodded. "I think you're wrong but I understand the concern. I think our best argument here, without knowing the results from the rape kit is to simply make this a case of she said, they said. The Shore Patrol didn't see anything, either did the Filipino police that entered the building to search one of the other units. If we park character witness after character witness up on that stand, we'll get the members to see our narrative of who our clients are and they'll acquit them."

"Good strategy, sir." Bud smiled. "But if that rape kit comes back against the Lieutenants."

"Then they can put their heads between their legs and kiss their sixes goodbye because the Skipper and I will use the catapult to fire their sorry asses off this ship." Harm reviewed the interview notes again. "I'll head down to the squad bay tomorrow and speak with some of the guys in the squad to line up as character witnesses. For now, I just want to get some damn shut-eye. You could probably use some too, Bud. Those bags under your eyes look like they could cart groceries."

"Yes, sir." Bud smiled and laughed as Harm headed out of his JAG office and quarters. Harm couldn't help but smile to himself as he navigated the ship on his way back to his quarters. He loved this ship, by and large he was fond of the Skipper, the guys in his Air Wing and of course, Bud and Kate. Speaking of which, Commander Pike was waiting outside the hatch to his quarters.

"Commander Pike, to what do I owe the honour of your company?" Harm stated aloud for the benefit of anyone else in the vicinity before he invited her into his quarters. The two of them stepped inside. "What's up, Kate? And don't think you can plead me down before the rape kit is released."

"Well, I wasn't going to talk about the case necessarily...though, I should point out that it would be a pretty smart idea for you to plead this out and avoid a long and sticky court martial to get your Air Wing back into the scrap as soon as possible." Kate caught him between her and the bulkhead.

"What are you offering?" Harm choked out, trying not to remember that two years without sex was a personal record for him.

"Six years confinement each, dishonourable discharge." Kate practically breathed down his chest. Harm tried to stop any visceral reaction that was sure to be produced.

"No...uh, no deal." Harm dug his fingernails into the palm on his right hand as an attempt at a distraction.

"Why Captain, are you nervous about something?" Kate whispered into his ear in a husky tone.

"What would give you that impression, Commander?" Harm smiled quickly

"The fidgeting, the nervous smile, the darting glances." Kate observed, leaning into his chest, opening her palm just below his collarbone. "That hard ragged breathing that every woman recognizes."

"Kate...uh, what's going on here?" Harm gulped hard.

"A trip down memory lane." Kate's eyelashes danced. "You, me, a carrier, a JAG investigation generating a lot of media attention."

"I'm your senior officer." Harm rationalized.

"Wouldn't be my first time with a senior officer." Kate rebutted.

"Which got you in trouble before." Harm pointed out.

"I'm not in your chain of command, Harm. I don't report to the Skipper or to you, I report to the NATO Force Judge Advocate in London. I'm just a stowaway on this wonderful cruise." Kate beamed a smile at him.

"What is it you're looking for, Kate." Harm whispered lightly.

"Nothing more or different than before." Kate told him simply and Harm couldn't help but grow a little grin.

0341 ZULU

STEPHEN ROSS' HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

He didn't have to knock or ring the bell, the door was open. Pushing past the door, he walked into the kitchen to find Stephen sitting there drinking rye straight out of the bottle. "Well, didn't take you long to get here, huh, big brother?" Steve swallowed hard. "She told you what happened?"

"You have exactly five seconds to begin explaining why before I start removing teeth." Nate growled through gritted teeth.

"Listen," Steve took another swig, "I was drunk, she was being a bitch and it's my marriage so why the hell do you care?" Nate took two steps and swung. He clipped Stephen on the jaw, sending him crashing to the floor out of the chair.

"You wanna know why I care, huh?" Nate stood over him before winding up and taking his right loafer to Stephen's mid section. "Your boys are my nephews, they see you hit their mother and they might start thinking that bullshit behaviour is acceptable." Nate grabbed Stephen by his collar and belt and threw him headlong into a wall. "I don't give a shit if you're a cop. You're my little brother and someone's going to show you what happens to assholes who beat women."

Stephen slowly got to his feet, regained his breath and turned on his older brother. He started to run, caught Nate's ribs in a hold and continued through to drive him into a wall. Nate grimaced hard and fell to the floor. His breathing became a little more laboured but he got back to his feet, his Marine Corps issue temper at full boil. He just started swinging with both hands, hitting Stephen repeatedly squarely on his nose and jaw. The DC cop fell to the ground, bleeding from his lip and nose. "Come on, Steve, you were such a big man earlier tonight. You could beat a woman, you can't beat me?"

"Son of a bitch." Steve grumbled and took a swing at Nate, catching him in the ribs and causing him to double over in pain. Nate's ribs felt like the xylophone from hell but he wasn't about to give him. He started feeling a little blood lust. Nate reached out, grabbed Stephen by the collar, and with one arm threw him down on to the coffee table causing it to collapse around him. Nate took one of the broken legs from the table and crouched down over the collapsed and defeated form of his brother. He held the broken piece of wood over Stephen's ribs. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to leave Lily and the boys the hell alone until she decides otherwise. She's going to send me the bills every month and I'm going to send them to you. You're going to pay ¾ of the bills and send me the money and I'll pass it along to her. If you harass her, or the boys, and I find out about it, I swear to God I will make this little visit seem like a Wimbledon match." Nate reeled back with the table leg and brought it down across Stephen's ribs. "Goodnight, little brother."

Nate turned and headed out the door back to his car. On the way out, he ran into his father crossing the lawn in front of Stephen's house. "He in there?" General Jack asked.

"Yeah." Nate nodded, blinking slowly.

"In one piece?" The General pressed his inquiry.

"Didn't stop to do an examination." Nate answered with a caustic grin. "You gonna kill him?"

"Considered it." The General shrugged. Nate blinked hard again before getting in his car and starting the drive back to Arlington. About halfway home his ribs began to pound and his breathing was getting really laboured. He cursed himself. He and Stephen weren't in their twenties any more, their bodies were going to start rejecting this kind of punishment. He winced noticeably as he crossed the bridge into Virginia. When he got back to the apartment, he hung his keys on the hook and found Mac waiting for him in the living room.

"The boys?" He questioned, still wincing as he staggered over to the couch.

"Asleep in the guest room." Mac answered softly. "I think Lily's still tucking them in." She eyed him suspiciously. "You don't look that rough."

"Take my shirt off." He joked and she continued her suspicions.

"There are kids in the next room." She protested only half-mockingly. Nate unbuttoned his shirt and let it hang open. Mac looked down and notice that some skin around his ribs was already beginning to colour. She ran her fingertips over the swelling. "I tried to tell you violence doesn't solve anything."

"Guess I should have listened." Nate grimaced again. "Ain't as good as I once was." Mac headed off the kitchen to get another ice pack before then heading to the bathroom and grabbing a bandage to wrap around his ribs. Lily entered the living room just as Mac was putting pressure on the ice pack.

"Oh my God, did Stephen do that to you?" She exclaimed as she rushed over to the couch. Nate nodded and Lily looked instantly worried that she caused more trouble than she was worth. Lily instinctively raised her fingers to the swelling area but Mac covered it with her hand and the ice. Nate might have acted in a manner befitting a complete jack ass tonight but he was her jack ass.

"You're going to be sore when you wake up tomorrow." Mac lectured him as she wrapped the bandage. "Not to mention, stiff as hell."

"Lily, you and the boys are welcome to stay here as long as you'd like." Nate offered, the ice pack starting to numb the pain.

"No, Nate we couldn't..."She tried to protest.

"You can and will. I'm certainly not letting you stay in some crappy motel." He groaned as Mac pinned the bandage down and the pins dug into the skin on his back. "The couch folds out into a pretty comfortable bed."

"Thank you." Lily smiled at him. "I found some old clothes for the boys to wear as Pjs, I hope that was okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Nate smiled as he got to his feet and lumbered into the kitchen. "Who wants coffee?" Both women accepted the offer and Nate fired up the coffee maker.

"So, uh, what did Stephen have to say." Lily chanced as she walked toward the kitchen.

"Nothing I'd care to repeat." Nate answered honestly. "I told him to stay the hell away from you until you were ready to talk to him."

"I don't know that I ever will be." She answered in a near whisper.

"Well, that's understandable." Mac jumped in. "What he did tonight was a massive violation of your trust."

"Yeah, but you share this special bond with the father of your children." Lily turned her gaze on the tile floor of the kitchen. "Everything in you can tell you to walk away but you look in the eyes of your children and you think about the good times that you had."

"But that's why you have to do it." Mac explained. "For your kids, because they deserve to have a better male role model. But also for yourself, you need to have more respect for yourself than to let yourself be treated like that. You don't want your boys thinking it's okay to treat women like that."

"I'm with Mac here, Lily." Nate wrapped his arms around Mac's shoulders. "I know it's not simple to cast off someone like that but in this case, I don't think there is a better or comparable option. You did the right thing by coming here."

"I know." She nodded to herself. "Somehow, I knew that if I showed up here, you'd do something like this. The boys always did like you."

"Kids have a good sense about people." Mac commented.

2020 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

MANILA HARBOUR

Harm wasn't sure how to feel when he'd woken up this morning. He knew what it was with Kate, what it always was with Kate. There was a strong physical attraction there, at times overpowering. Times like last night when he had her pinned up against the bulkhead, her legs wrapped around his waist as he matched her ragged breath for ragged breath. As he lay awake this morning, he stared up at the ceiling in his stateroom and thought to himself. Why had he so willingly crossed the line here with Kate when he had so well constructed boundaries that had prevented him from doing the same with Mac. They weren't technically in the same chain of command, Kate was right. She reported to the Force Judge Advocate, he and the Skipper reported to the Fifth Fleet Commander who reported to the NAVCENT Commander, who reported to CENTCOM. But they were, at least for the moment, opposing sides in a court martial, a situation that he and Mac had been in countless times before. But once the court martial ended, he'd go back to being the ship's CAG and she the Force JAG afloat. He was a superior grade officer. Aye, there was the rub. That was what had Harm feeling a little unnerved this morning.

The rape kit had come in this morning, inconclusive. There was no definitive proof that rape had taken place. There was some tearing but no bruising, in short, nothing that a good defence lawyer couldn't argue was simply rough sex. And the members would have no trouble believing that. After all, Harm was sure that there were members of the panel willing to judge group sex as being a deviant act and it wouldn't be that much of a stretch for them to believe that such people would also engage in rough sex. But it was a sword that cut both ways. Kate likely felt the same way about the members and knew that persons of such temperament would see such people as being unworthy to wear the uniform and thus would seek to drum them out of the service via conviction. So when Kate had come to him before the pre-trial motions and voir dire with an offer, he'd been forced to listen.

"Three years confinement each, dishonourable discharge." Kate offered in a whisper before the court martial could be convened for the day.

"I'll take it to them." Harm turned away from Kate and sat down at the defence table. "Three years confinement each, dishonourable discharge." Harm looked first to Bud then to his clients. He didn't know for himself if they were innocent or guilty, it was one of the things that he hated about trials like this. You were just as likely to end up with a guilty man being set free as an innocent one ending up in prison. One of his clients looked terrified at the prospect of prison, the other held stoicism as he considered the offer.

"What's your advice, Captain?" The latter Lieutenant leaned in toward his lawyer.

"Your word against the girl's, an inconclusive rape kit, Commander Pike will likely also call the Shore Patrolmen up to testify as to your demeanour when you were arrested. Semen from the kit puts you at the scene. It could go either way." Harm shrugged a little.

"We could go to jail?" The more frightened of the two young officers asked.

"You could." Bud answered for Harm. "But Commander Pike's offer says that she likely has little confidence in her own case. Three years is less than the six she was offering earlier." If Harm had to guess, looking at his two clients, he still wouldn't be able to tell if they were guilty. The panic and shear fear of one of his clients made him think that he at least was guilty, but it was the other defendant that had Harm weary. He was unsure if that young man was simply using stoicism as a front or if he really was as cold and calculating as he was currently appearing. "I think we could probably find out the strength of the Commander's case if we floated a counter offer."

"Risky strategy, Bud." Harm thought for a second. "But risk never deterred me before."

"No, sir." Bud affirmed.

"Go for it, Captain." The more timid of the two defendants urged and Harm got out of his chair and motioned for Kate to conference with him.

"Eighteen months confinement, bad conduct discharge." Harm floated, a hand on his chin.

Kate gnawed on her lower lip for a second, unsure of what Harm's negotiating meant for his case. She figured that she knew Harmon Rabb well enough that any negotiation on his part could be seen as a sign of a weak defence case but on the other hand, she wasn't sure whether Harm's position as the CAG might be affecting his approach to this case as he sought to return his Air Wing to their designated Theatre of Operations. "I'll consider it before taking the offer to the convening authority, but Harm, the Skipper and the SECNAV might be in it too deep to be willing such a light punishment."

"Light punishment, Kate?" Harm folded his arms in front of his chest. "If you ever watched a pilot when he knows he's never going to trap again, you'd know that it's hardly a light punishment, Kate."

"You forget, I was with you when you first went back to the Seahawk." Kate whispered to him. "And when you trapped and saved the CAG's life. I know what flying can mean to pilots, Harm. But there's a PR storm that could hit the Navy really hard if we're seen to be covering this up." Harm looked back at the two defendants and nodded. Harm had a quick gut feeling and blinked understandingly before heading back to the defence table.

"Bud, before the trial commences, I'm going to submit a request for separation." Harm told his friend. "I'll take Lieutenant Yates, you'll take Lieutenant Shaw."

"Why, sir?" Bud questioned.

"Because I think I've got a handle on the truth finally." Harm answered.

1610 ZULU, MONDAY

VIRGINIA STATEHOUSE

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

Nate stood in the temporary green room behind the press briefing room in the Virginia statehouse. He had submitted his resignation as Secretary of State to the President on Friday last week and Andrew Russell had taken it with a heavy heart. The President had always liked the young man who had served so dutifully as his chief foreign policy advisor. News of this impending announcement was leaked just after the resignation had been submitted on Friday afternoon. Now, Nate stood next to Sam in the green room waiting to be summoned out to the podium to take his first press conference as the Senator-Designate for the Commonwealth of Virginia.

"Always figured that you'd be standing here someday." Sam pondered aloud.

"Yeah, always knew you'd be here when I was." Nate adjusted his tie. "You realize of course that since it was your idea to get me involved in this mess, you now have no choice, you're my chief of staff, right?"

"I figured as much." Sam chuckled. "I talked to Senator Hoynes, he's lining everything up for you to be sworn in on Wednesday afternoon."

"Expediting the process?" Nate brushed off his lapel.

"Want to get down to work. I spent the weekend making staff calls, you're taking over Dunlap's old office and everything. The Democratic leadership wants to coddle you, so you're gonna get a wide berth for a while." Sam explained as he handed Nate his speech and Nate looked it over.

"You wrote this didn't you?" Nate suspiciously eyed his college buddy.

"It's your first major public address, it needs to have a certain note of gravitas." Sam explained. "Remember to build to the crescendos, look back at the cameras not down at the front row."

"You're going to be doing this a lot, huh?" Nate laughed.

"Chief of Staff." Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah." Nate rolled his eyes and headed out the door to the podium in the press room with Sam following close behind. His initial address was only about ten minutes in length and it was followed by his first press conference. Sam had taken over the political operation along with Bruno and they proved to be tilling very fertile soil. After setting up the MarineDems Political Action Committee as a fundraising conduit for Nate's campaign, they'd raised four million dollars in the first seventy-two hours alone. The polling numbers that they were charting for their candidate were through the roof and the people at DNC headquarters had taken notice. But it had also launched Nate off the sidelines in the Democratic Primary battle for the Presidential nomination and right into the middle of the fight Senators Hoynes and Wiley were the two biggest names in the fight and both would likely be making stops into Nate's office some time in the coming week to make their pitch for his support. In one weekend, the new Senator-Designate for Virginia had overtaken John Hoynes as the Democratic Party's best fundraiser and most appealing public face.

On the drive home from Richmond, Nate had a lot of things to consider. He wished he'd been able to do the announcement today with Mac at his side and he'd asked her if she'd wanted to be there but her duties at JAG prevented that from happening. He wasn't that eager to push her out in front of so many cameras anyway. She'd lightened up on him for flying off the handle last week with Stephen, he figured that he'd likely just shocked her with an act that was so out of character for him. Lily and the boys were staying at his apartment, the General had brought most of their stuff over from their house in DC and while his apartment was being occupied Nate was staying with Mac. What he liked about this relationship was how easily the two of them communicated when they needed to. They enjoyed spending time together, they even enjoyed arguing and volleying banter back and forth with each other. Nate was relieved that he hadn't unsettled Mac by getting into that physical altercation with his brother that night but he made a mental note not to act so irrationally should a future incident occur.

1725 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Wedding plans were driving the Admiral slowly crazy. Being the Judge Advocate General for the United States Department of the Navy was enough to try his patience and his sanity on a daily basis without a new folio being sent over every few hours displaying the different options for flower arrangements, china patterns, bridesmaids gowns, food and just about everything under the sun. The Admiral found himself pinching the bridge of his nose so hard some days that he'd swear he was about to break it. Today had been the last straw, deciding between eighteen different kinds of lilies, orchids, roses, carnations, tulips and everything else seemingly under the sun had broken the camel's back.

"Tiner!" The Admiral punched his intercom.

"Yes, sir." The yeoman responded hesitantly.

"Get Lieutenant Sims into my office ASAP!" The Admiral commanded and leaned back into his chair. The Admiral could hear Tiner scurry off into the bullpen through the door. A few seconds later a knock came at the Admiral's door. "Enter." The Admiral called.

"Lieutenant Sims reporting as ordered, sir." Harriet came to attention in front of the Admiral.

"At ease, Lieutenant." The Admiral moved out from behind the desk. "As I recall, Lieutenant, you did a very good job co-ordinating your own wedding a few years ago and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me."

"In what way, sir?" Harriet sounded slightly confused.

"Lieutenant, from my experience, you have a pretty good knack for judging people's tastes. In front of me, I have probably close to two dozen folios, I need you to look through them and any others my fiancée sends over. Determine three or four possible options in each category that you think I might find favourable and present them to me." The Admiral finished outlining his plan. "That way, my fiancee will get my input on the wedding and I will get to retain my sanity. I'm enlisting you as my official wedding liaison."

"Understood, sir." Harriet beamed a smile at the Admiral. "But I thought you had a real knack for weddings, sir. At least you did when you assisted me and Bud."

"I have a knack for taking four or five options down to one or two, Lieutenant. I have no patience for taking twenty-four options down to four. Frankly, I'd prefer to deal with the aftermath of Captain Rabb shooting up a courtroom ceiling all over again." The Admiral allowed himself a chuckle.

"Then I'll just take these off your hands, sir." Harriet loaded her arms down with the wedding options. "I won't let you down, sir."

"No, Lieutenant, I didn't think you would." The Admiral nodded and returned to the chair behind his desk. "Dismissed."

2312 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

MANILA, HARBOUR

"Yates, Shaw, take a seat." Harm directed and the two young aviators took a seat. Bud standing over his client's shoulder. "You know, something has always bugged me about this case but I could never put my finger on it until yesterday when I went to the hospital to check up on something. See the rape kit report only says that there was semen present but it doesn't say whose. So, I asked the attending physician at the hospital and the genetic information from the semen was cross-matched against both of you. Shaw it was yours."

The usually stoic aviator looked suddenly defeated. "What are you getting at, sir?" Bud inquired on his client's behalf.

"Here's what I think happened." Harm leaned over the table and looked at his own client. "Yates, I don't think you were there when the rape took place. I think you went looking for Shaw but you stumbled in on it happening. You didn't know what to do but then the cops showed up to raid that other unit. You both panicked and ran but that's when you were pick up by Shore Patrol." Harm paused. "See, that you were both willing to admit complicity in being there and that the Shore Patrol picked up both of you at the same time, no one ever would have questioned that you both took part but Yates when you started worrying about going to prison and got nervous, I figured something had to be up. Shaw raped her, didn't he?"

The young Lieutenant j.g hung his head. "Yes, sir."

"Yates!" Shaw almost launched across the table.

"Why did you hide that?" Harm tried to understand the torment his junior officer had put himself through in the last few days.

"At first, sir, I wasn't sure what happened. But as I started to remember, I wanted to punish myself for not doing anything." Yates sniffled slightly.

"You'll testify to that in court?" Harm questioned and Yates just nodded. "Guess you can take over from here, Bud."

"What should I do, sir?" Shaw looked to Bud who did his best not to look disgusted.

"I'll see if Commander Pike's three years is still on the table." Bud answered, guiding Shaw toward the door. "Trust me when I saw this. Lieutenant, with the convening authority refusing to grant separation of trials, you don't want to get caught between Captain Rabb and Commander Pike in court."

Satisfied with the truth having once again won out, Harm made his way back to his quarters. He sat down in front of the computer and checked his email to find another note sent his way from Mac.

To: "Harmon Rabb"

From: "Sarah MacKenzie"

Hey Flyboy,

Just writing to check in on you...and to pick your brain on another matter. This week Nate's sister-in-law showed up at his apartment after Nate's brother had beaten her one night. He took her in and we helped her and her kids but later Nate went over to his brother's and beat the crap out of him. Normally, I wouldn't favour that kind of vigilante response but he pointed out that as a DC cop, the blue shield likely would have protected his brother from any formal recourse. So, I'm conflicted. I don't like what he did but on the other hand, I feel like he did have to do it. He's not a violent guy, ever, really but it was a little unnerving to see this side of him come out. What do you think?

Mac.

Harm thought for a second, in the same situation he likely would have acted the exact same way, but he'd always known that Mac had a lukewarm relationship with most types of violence because of her own past, especially in domestic situations. He felt Nate justified in his actions, but could he tell her that? He had to, he'd told himself that to move on and let go of the stuff in his past he'd have to stop hiding things when confronted with them, even when confronted with them by Sarah MacKenzie.


	13. Better Days

Leo McGarry carried his loyalties close to his heart. But it was an odd product of Vietnam that sometimes circumstance created accidental loyalties. Those days in the jungle near An Khe after he and Kenny O'Donnell had been shot down had been some of the longest but he'd never forget the name of the Marine officer who'd been tasked with their rescue, Major Jack Ross. When they'd all made it back to Saigon, Leo had bought the Major a beer and from there he'd formed a friendship. Leo wouldn't pretend they were as close as brothers, they weren't like him and Kenny but they'd kept in sporadic contact over the years. When Leo had been appointed Labour Secretary, they'd become closer as Major Ross was now a General and the Commandant of the Marine Corps. When the General had retired from the Corps, Leo had pulled some strings to get him a job on the board of Mueller-Wright Aviation.

Over they years, Leo had come to know some of the General's children as well. Two of the boys had unsurprisingly become Marines. The older one, Leo knew had become an infantry officer and an MEU XO before being critically wounded in Desert Storm and committing suicide a few years later. The younger of the two boys he'd met had also become a Marine, but a sniper instead of an infantry officer and a highly decorated one at that. Then he'd gone on to the State Department and to the top of the State Department before landing his current job in the Senate. That Senate job was one of two reasons Leo was on the hill this particular day. He was going to try and recruit a couple sons of his old friends. His first trip to Senator Hoynes' office to recruit his legislative director had shown some promise

His trip to the office of the new Junior Senator from Virginia was going to prove the more challenging task, as getting congressional support for a candidate currently polling in fourth place would seem a kin of getting a snail to swallow the statue of liberty. The pandemonium he was surrounded with upon entering the Senator's office was to be expected. Most of these people were two weeks into the job, they were all still adjusting to each other and to their new surroundings. This phase Leo often found akin to throwing a bunch of dogs into one pen and watching them circle each other for a few days.

"Morley!" Sam Seaborn called across the office. "This draft does me no good, take it back and write me something a little less, you know, misanthropic."

"I'm here to see the Senator." Leo checked in with what looked to be the only sane person in the place.

"He's pretty booked today, can I give him a name?" The elder woman eyed Leo over her glasses.

"Tell him it's Leo McGarry." He answered and the Secretary buzzed him through. Nate's head appeared through the door to his inner office. The frame of the six foot three former Marine stepped out and raised to fingers to his lips to blow a chaos halting whistle.

"In case you're all forgetting, this is supposed to be Capitol Hill and serious business is supposed to go on here." Nate addressed the room. "Let us all remember that I would hate to have to kill all of you but as a Marine I'm trained to do it and make it look like an accident, alright?" Nate looked around a silent room. "Good, now Leo, why don't you come on in?" Nate motioned for Leo to head into his office. "How've you been? God, it must be at least seven years since I saw you last."

"Sounds about right." Leo took a seat opposite Nate. "How's your old man?"

"Being kept sane and busy by Kenny O'Donnell and the boys at Mueller-Wright, thanks for getting him that job, Leo. I think too much golfing would have driven him insane years ago." Nate laughed.

"Nah, don't mention it." Leo waved him off.

"So, what's on your mind? What dragged you all the way down here from Chicago?" Nate raised a hand to his chin as he sat back in his chair.

"I want you to come up to Nashua on Thursday night to hear Jed Bartlet speak." Leo's elbows dug into his knees as he leaned forward.

"Kind of short notice, Leo." Nate answered quickly. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, the spiel I gave to a guy I know in Hoynes' office is that it's the kind of thing that sons do for old friends of their fathers but I'll hand it to you a little more straight. I know I've got the next President of the United States here, I don't need you to make him the President but I think that this campaign and this country could be better if the two of you joined forces." Leo didn't blink once as he delivered his message. "Hoynes approached you about endorsing him?"

"Twice." Nate answered honestly. "Probably gonna hear it again today."

"Why haven't you done it? Your guys have got to be telling you it's the smart thing to do. Locks you in with the frontrunner, gives you political cover if you're wrong." Leo wanted to hit at the young man's conscience. Knowing the environment in which he'd been raised, he was sure it would be there.

"Because I hope to do better for my President." Nate answered with snort of contempt.

"Wiley?" Leo chanced.

"Knows I won't endorse him but wants to keep me from going to Hoynes." Nate replied.

"So, what's the harm of coming up to Nashua?" Leo shrugged.

"Leo..." Nate shook his head. "Listen, I'd go out of respect for you and your friendship with my family but I'm booked solid this weekend. If you're so sure you've got the next President, then you'll have him in town next week for the big DNC fundraiser on Wednesday night. I'm sure you'll also have him doing a little press that morning. Have him in my office that afternoon and I'll listen to anything he has to say."

"Not the best of circumstances." Leo admitted. Nate Ross had been in Washington for more than a decade, he knew how to play power games and he knew that holding meetings on his own turf gave him the upper hands. "The whole afternoon?"

"I'll let him talk until he's blue in the face if he wants." Nate chuckled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Leo, Dad always said you had great judgment, I trust this is more of the same."

"Next Wednesday?" Leo double-checked.

"I'll even spring for lunch if he wants." Nate walked with Leo to the office door. "Hey Leo, is he the real deal?"

"You'll see for yourself." Leo gave him that typical big Irish smirk and headed on his way.

1639 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

Commander Pike stood at the back of the Ready Room and watched as Harm stood at the front in his flight suit briefing his squad. There was something different about Harm the pilot, especially when he was Harm the CAG. His posture always forced him to stand straight but it was as if the Eagles normally pinned to his collar gave his shoulders an added altitude. He was Captain Harmon Rabb Junior, the man that the Skipper called the hero of the Fifth Fleet, only half mockingly.

Kate used to think that a carrier was a lot like High School. A few thousand people thrown into a confined space for a predetermined amount of time. The Skipper was the Principal, the Command Master Chief was the Vice Principal, the CAG was a stand in for the football coach and his aviators were the adult equivalent of the football team. This cruise was different though. Harm wasn't an ancient CAG, he was a young guy and his aviators felt less guarded around him because of that. He was the Captain here instead of the coach. Knowing she had the most popular man on board gave a little stroke to Kate's ego, even if in her analogy it made her the equivalent of those cheerleader bitches she hated in high school.

She watched him, all poise and position as he exercised his command at the front of the room. Shoulders always square, eyes always making contact with each pilot, letting them know in the same instant that he's concerned for their safety but he'll kick their six if they screw the pooch. He was directing them to their mission for the afternoon, they were expected to attack anti aircraft sites in Kandahar province. Not the kind of combat mission she knows some of them were hoping for but not exactly a milk run either. When he sent them off to the deck, he followed the crowd, making sure the stragglers didn't miss their rides. "Commander Pike." He greeted her with a smile as he walked past.

"CAG." She practically breathed out as he walked by. She loved her hormones sometimes, but especially around Harmon Rabb. Kate never doubted that if she wanted to connect with Harm on an emotional level she could, but she preferred not to. She didn't know why, everything about Harm should have made her want him, crave him in the way that most women who got within ten feet of him did but Kate's gut instinct always told her to keep whatever was between them purely physical and she always did. But she did enjoy the raw physical heat that the two of them generated.

For her part, Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes was simply keeping her own set of mental notes on the CAG's behaviour. She noticed that ever since liberty in Manila, he'd been less ornery, less distant and less interested in doing the impression of Admiral Boone that he had contented himself with for the first few weeks he'd been on the cruise. Harm always liked to joke that Skates was the only woman who really knew him because she was the only woman who flew with him. Maybe on some level there was some truth to that. She was more attuned to the little differences in his behaviour because they were often exaggerated when he got behind the stick. Good pilots and bad pilots had one thing in common, neither of them were capable of flying the same mission, the same way, twice. As his backseater, Skates could not only pick up on the changes in Harm but what might have caused them or what their significance might be. It also didn't hurt that she'd seen Commander Pike sneak out of his underway cabin a few times.

Captain Rabb was a good officer, she'd maintain that he was arguably the best she'd ever served with which is why she couldn't quite understand why he'd risk it. It might not technically be fraternization but she couldn't imagine that the Skipper would be too thrilled if he found out his CAG was fooling around with the NATO JAG rep. She wouldn't tell the Skipper, of course not, she was Harm's friend. She remembered hearing, back when he'd had her moved out to Fightertown about a couple falling outs that the Captain had had with Colonel MacKenzie just before and just after he'd left JAG. That would explain a few things. Harm was maybe the best driver she'd ever gone up with, capable of things both in a courtroom and in a plane that could simultaneously impress both Clarence Darrow and the Wright Brothers, but emotionally self aware he was not.

Colonel MacKenzie and the Captain had danced around each other from the first time she'd met both of them on the Seahawk during the Marilyn Isaacs investigation. Skates had worked with a lot of men in her military career, it was the nature of the beast when you were a female RIO in a Navy that was still largely men. She never looked at any one of them the way the Colonel used to look at Harm. Skates understood the barriers they were facing. There was a trust there when you put your life in someone's hands, she understood that it made you closer than two average people. But it didn't cause yo too fall in love with them. Something else did that. She understood that chain of command made both of them gun shy, you were risking your duty station and maybe your career if you just came out with the feelings that the Navy made you keep closed off. But these were two very courageous people, for them to hide behind something so trivial would be the height of cowardice.

Skates settled into the back seat and checked her helmet.

"Look like you've got something on your mind, Skates." Harm stated from the front seat, just having completed his pre-flight checklist.

"Not really, sir." Skates gave a quick smile. "Just thinking about something Priest said."

"Oh yeah." Harm allowed himself a sarcastic chuckle. "What's that?"

"Said he was going to knock you off the top of the greenie board today." Skates laughed as she attempted to provoke Harm's competitive side.

"Time was, Skates, having Eagles on your collar earned you a little respect in this man's Navy." Harm tried to sound serious but failed.

"Show them some respect then, CAG." Skates encouraged.

"Nimitz tower, this is Sea Monster 2-4-6, preflight checklist complete." Harm called in on the radio.

"Sea Monster 2-4-6, this is Nimitz tower." The Air Boss responded. "All clear for ya, CAG, just enjoy the ride and try not to brag too much when you get back, sir."

"Tell ya what, Boss, Priest takes out more targets than I do today and I'll owe ya a bottle of Jack on our next liberty." Harm jousted through the radio.

"I'll hold ya to that, sir." The Air Boss answered and watched as the catapult tossed Harm and Skates off the deck and into the sky.

1814 ZULU, WEDNESDAY

RUSSELL SENATE OFFICE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

Nate was still amazed that he'd gotten Mac to agree to go to the DNC fundraiser tonight. He figured that there would be more arm-twisting involved than a Marine arm wrestling tournament, so he was naturally surprised when she'd agreed so willingly. It left him a little suspicious. Mac abhorred the Washington fishbowl, especially on Capitol Hill. It was a part of what attracted him to her. He could be Superman on Capitol Hill then come home and be Clark Kent. Political fundraisers were usually the height of Washington tedium but at least Mac would have Sturgis to talk to as he would show up with Senator Latham this evening. He knew Mac, he'd seen her in formal wear before, she'd likely pick something out of her closet this evening that would make her the talk of Washington for weeks to come.

His office was starting to settle down. It had taken a little while to get everyone to understand chain of command but they had eventually gotten it. Sam was falling nicely into his role as Chief of Staff and Nate had brought Betty Clarkson over from his office at State to be his personal secretary. He'd brought in Derek Morley, whom he'd worked with for years at the State Department to run Communications – something Sam micro-managed anyway – and he brought in Lily to work as Sam's secretary. That wasn't just a patronage hire. Lily had been a secretary for the head of Grumman-Northrop's Washington office before Owen had been born and it was Nate's way of being able to give her money without just giving her money. Thus far though, she had proven a most efficient time manager and co-conspirator for Sam. But right now, he was just sitting in his office waiting on Governor Bartlet.

Outside Nate's office, Jed Bartlet and Leo McGarry were having one final talk before the Governor's meeting. "Remind me why I'm meeting this kid again?" Jed pulled on his jacket.

"You know how you're always telling me that the Celtics need a big man in the paint if they want to be taken seriously?" Leo tried to explain. "This guy could be your big man in the paint for this campaign. He's got the heft to deflect a lot of the military and foreign policy criticisms directed at you. Not to mention the name recognition and fundraising boost he'd give the campaign."

"Uh huh." Jed deadpanned. "And you thought I wouldn't come to this conclusion on my own because?"

"I've told you before, you're a pretty lousy politician and I'm gonna have to make these kinds of decisions for you." Leo chuckled.

"Got elected to public office without you, pal." Jed fired back.

"In New Hampshire and you're a Bartlet, this is the NBA not college ball." Leo ended the metaphor.

"Maybe, but this kid's like ten years old!" Jed protested.

"He's 38, I've known him since he was 12 and I know that if the two of you can get around your mutual love of your own intelligence, you might actually like each other." Leo grinned. "You're gonna move mountains, my friend, but you're gonna need help with some of them."

"Yeah, alright." Jed gave a satisfied nod before heading through the door to the Senator's office along. "Senator Ross!" He cheered.

"Governor Bartlet!" Nate got up and walked over to shake his hand. The Governor took a seat opposite the Senator and the two men took a second to size each other up.

"Let me start by saying, Senator, that I don't appreciate the way you treated Leo McGarry the last time he was in your office." Jed Bartlet wanted to get that off his chest right away. "If you were trying to make points, you failed big time."

"I didn't like doing it." Nate answered honestly. "But I wasn't going up to New Hampshire, I did have a full weekend. I wasn't about to make a public show of support for you before I met you, Governor. Leo vouching for you was one thing but I don't know you from Adam and I needed to know your character first. On the plus side, I did read your book over the weekend."

"Did you?" Bartlet eyed the young man suspiciously.

"I did, I only understood about every other word." The two men shared a laugh.

"That's about how much I understood when I wrote it." Jed offered. "I read yours as well, your journals from Desert Storm make for compelling reading."

"Yeah, well they didn't when I wrote them." Nate leaned back. "So, why are you running, Governor?"

"It's Jed." Governor Bartlet intervened.

"Then' it's Nate, too." Nate reciprocated.

"I figured at first I would just open my mouth, say what I believe and we'd all get our butts kicked on Super Tuesday and go home." Jed looked away and smiled. "But some of these guys Leo's brought in recently, the kid from Hoynes' office..."

"Josh Lyman? Yeah, I heard about that." Nate nodded. "Good steal for you guys."

"I think there's something special happening here. I'm running now because 1 in 5 children live in poverty and that's unacceptable, I'm running now because the leading cause of death for black men under 30 is homicide and that's unacceptable, I'm running now because 40 million Americans have inadequate or no health insurance and that's unacceptable. I'm running because Leo thinks I've got what it takes to make a difference and I'm starting to think he's right." Jed chuckled a little to himself.

Nate sat back slightly awe struck. He searched for a thought but when none came, he let a slow, knowing smile grow on his face. "You know what, Jed? I'm starting to think so, too."

2057 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

The mission had been a resounding success. When they got back on the deck, Harm's Black Aces squadron was summarily put on stand down so that they could catch a little rack time. It was something that Harm himself was looking forward to once he finished compiling the after action reports so that he could pass them on up to the Skipper. When his one pen ran out of ink, Harm decided to head on down to the Black Aces' squad bay where his other pens were stored in his locker. The door to the squad bay was open when he walked in, which was curious because he was sure that Priest had closed it as the last squad member out after the mission. Harm ducked past the entrance to the ready room to the second row of lockers. He heard noise and the rattling of the aluminium lockers which caused him to turn right.

There he saw Priest and the ship's medical officer entangled in a heated embrace, in differing states of disrobement. The CAG cleared his throat causing the two officers to panic and stop what they were doing. "That's an interesting way of conducting a physical, Lieutenant Commander D'Amigo, I didn't know that you could do that." Harm stared down the two officers.

"Sorry, sir." Lieutenant Commander D'Amigo gulped. She knew this had been a mistake, but there was just something about this particular hotshot flyer. It had started when she'd first been ordered by the skipper to check out the four new members of the squad when they'd arrived weeks earlier. They'd flirted a little, shared a few longing glances early on but she always found him most attractive after he returned from missions. The sweat sliding down his forehead as he wore his flight-suit like a second skin. That was all about to end.

"Commander Fanelli, you got something to say here?" Harm turned to the squadron XO.

"No, sir." Priest gulped himself. He knew the CAG liked him and he knew that he was damn good but that didn't make him indispensable and for a violation of the rules this big, he knew that the CAG would chew him a new six just for the practice.

"Lieutenant Commander D'Amigo, you're dismissed for the time being." Harm didn't even look at the ship's medical officer who snapped to attention momentarily before scampering out of the squad bay. "At attention, until I say otherwise, Commander Fanelli." Harm headed over to his locker and pulled a few pens out. "With me, Commander." Harm headed out of the squad bay and Priest followed him in tow, always one pace behind. When they got to his stateroom, Harm ordered Priest in before following and closing the hatch. "Wanna tell me what the hell that was, Priest?"

"No excuse, sir." The young pilot gulped hard.

"Not the official line, Priest, I want to know the whole story while I make up my mind about whether or not I should chew you out." Harm folded his arms in front of his chest. When he took a second to really think about it, his ire softened. In a borderline way, he was guilty of the same thing and had been twice. Right now, it wasn't the same thing as Priest's situation but it was only Navy bureaucracy that save his ass on that score.

"It all started when we joined the cruise a few weeks back, CAG." Priest let out a heavy exhale. "When we had to report to Sick Bay for those pre-flight physicals. You know, sir, how it can kind of start with those looks that you both hold just a little too long or those kind of accidental touches where nobody's eager to pull away. Of course it also made the hernia test fun."

Harm had to laugh. "Whole new meaning to turn your head and cough?"

"Yes, sir." Priest allowed himself a singular chuckle. "Well after that, sir, it kind of progressed a little easier. I'd find myself heading to sick bay to get bandages for a paper cut and she's told me that she's made it to the bridge once or twice when we were flying. We'd eat together or get coffee together in the officer's wardroom. Then, one night when Demon was out for a smoke on Vulture's Row, she came by our stateroom and things just kind of....progressed."

Harm could sense the nervousness emanating from his wingman. This young man was sure that his Navy career had just hit a serious road block and with almost any other CAG, it might have but he had Harm as his CAG. He wasn't about to lose his best pilot and wingman over this. "You have feelings for her?" Harm asked.

"Oh yes, sir." Priest nearly tripped over his tongue trying to get that answer out. "This isn' t just about cheap and tawdry sex, I really do like her, sir."

Whether he knew it or not, and Harm didn't think he did, the young pilot had just turned the knife on his CAG. The way Navy regs were written, they almost preferred the cheap and tawdry physical affairs to any real deep emotional connection. You could order a sailor's body around, his heart was far more volatile. "Priest, you remember that Marine Lieutenant Colonel I've talked about, the one that was my partner at JAG?" Harm was about to take a step here.

"Colonel MacKenzie, sir? The one that came out to investigate Commander Keeter?" Priest replied, unsure where this was going.

"Yeah." Harm nodded, his eyes moving to the floor under his feet. "I worked with the Colonel for six year and went through just about every conceivable scenario I could with her including damn near killing myself trying to get back for her wedding."

"Yes, sir. Skates enjoys telling that story." Priest allowed himself a quick smile.

"My point, Commander, is that I did everything with and for the Colonel in that time to show her that I was in love with her, including some really stupid things that sent mixed signals like dating three other women." And I'm currently sleeping with another who's not her, Harm added to himself. "I know where you're coming from, so I'm going to cut you a little slack for getting right what I never could. So, here's what I'm ordering. Be discreet, I believe Commander D'Amigo has an office in sick bay with a hatch that locks, if you catch my meaning. Don't let anyone catch you and don't let it effect your work. When this cruise is over, if you're still together, I expect the two of you to deal with it according to Navy regs, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Priest couldn't believe the magnanimity of his CAG.

"Don't make me send a chaperon with you to sick bay if I send you there for an official reason, alright?" Harm had another in what was becoming a series of what he'd termed 'Chegwidden moments'.

"Yes, sir." Priest nodded again.

"And needless to sat that as far as the Navy's concerned, and you can tell Commander D'Amigo this as well, I didn't see anything tonight and this little conversation never took place, okay?" Harm unfolded his arms.

"What conversation, sir?" Priest grinned.

"Good man." Harm cheered. "Now, dismissed."

"Aye, sir." Priest turned toward the hatch and opened it. As he was ducking out, he turned back toward Harm. "Hey, CAG?" Harm raised his head to the inquiry. Priest couldn't help but extend another grin. "Thanks."

0112 ZULU

WILLARD INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL

WASHINGTON, DC

This normally would have been an event that Mac would have detested going to but tonight, for some reason, not so much. Nate had been spectacular about the whole thing. He'd given her plenty of advanced notice, he hadn't lied about the sheer number of members of the Washington press corps likely to be in attendance or what kind of night he could be expected to have being constantly pulled at by other politicians and big donors. She'd gone out and bought a spectacular new blue dress, an off the shoulder number with a neckline that fell in that wonderful grey area between modesty and scandal. He'd shown up at her place, early, which was unusual for him lately. He was wearing his tuxedo, his tie undone and hanging around his neck. She invited him in and proceeded to leave him waiting in the living room, catching up on the baseball scores while she did her hair an make up along with sliding into her new dress.

When she came out, Nate felt like all the air had been sucked out of his chest. She was gorgeous, unparalleled, in a word spectacular. He felt every bit the awkward teenager taking the head cheerleader to the junior prom. "Mac, you look..." He couldn't complete the sentence if he'd wanted to. In a second, the animal inside him had taken over and he had taken her in his arms and pulled her into a fierce kiss Her fingers vigorously combed the hair on the back of his head, her nails raking the scalp. She moaned a little when she felt that big warm palm open just below her shoulder blades and above the dress on her back As his lips worked their way down to that sweet spot on her neck, Mac's sensibilities kicked back in.

"Well done, Marine." Mac was panting. "But we have a function to attend." She stood there trying not to ogle him in his tuxedo. "You're a grown man, can you seriously not tie a bow tie?"

"Never wanted to learn." He gave her a coy smile. She reached up and tied the tie before putting her flat palms on his lapels and running them down his chest. "You look so..." He started again only to find himself once again stymied.

"You said earlier." Mac giggled a little.

"But the neck, it's graceful, it deserves a little notice." He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a long blue velvet box. Mac's eyes lit up for a second before her cheeks gave way to a blush. He moved behind her and clasped the diamond necklace around her neck and feathering a light kiss in that little spot just under the corner of her jaw line. Before things could get out of hand again. Mac had them both ushered out the door and on their way to the Willard.

They walked past the Washington press corps on their way in and Mac could swear she'd never seen so many flash-bulbs in her life. They made their way to the doors of the Willard's famous ballroom where the fundraiser was taking place. A few minutes late they hurried toward the door where Nate found the form of Governor Bartlet and his wife waiting for them. "You're late, Nate" The Governor used his best paternal tone.

"Sorry, Jed." Nate caught his breath. "But at least we'll make an entrance."

"Nathan Ross, my wife Abbey." Jed made the introductions.

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Nate and Mac both shook her hand. "And may I introduce Sarah MacKenzie."

"Nice to meet you, Sarah." Abbey Bartlet was the first to extend her hand.

"Charmed" Jed added. "Well, shall we?" He indicated toward the door and the two couples entered the ballroom together and they were met with a tidal wave of camera flashes Waves and handshakes were exchanged as Nate and Jed tried not to get waylaid on their way toward their table, a mission at which they were ultimately unsuccessful. Mac and Abbey were forced to make conversation, albeit pleasant conversation as they waited for their dates to rejoin them

"Your first political event?" Abbey asked, looking at Mac who was nervously fidgeting with her hands.

"Is it that obvious?" Mac responded nervously.

"To me it is." Abbey gave her a fond smile. "Maybe to some of them, too." She indicated the other people in the room. "But it doesn't matter, they're all here to have access to power and money. My husband has been a congressman and a Governor and I've never fully understood the amount of phony-ness that can transpire at an event like this"

"Does it ever get easier?" Mac looked up from her handshakes

"In some ways." Abby put a supportive hand on Mac's knee. "You learn that there are always some people at these events that you genuinely like. You try and talk to them You try to remember that your date is here doing a job, he doesn't enjoy it all the time and it's just work for him. And hey, at least the food is good."

"Amen to that!" Mac smiled as she took a crab puff off the server's tray. She and Abbey both exchanged smiles and changed topics in their conversation.

Across the room a few political pros were watching as John Hoynes became the abandoned frontrunner in favour of Bartlet and Ross who were making their way through the amassing crowds. "They make a good team." Josh Lyman turned to Sam Seaborn.

"Both the real deal." Sam answered simply. "You had to figure they would."

"Yeah, but not this quickly." Josh retorted. "I've worked closely with the guy for a week and I don't think he even knows my name yet"

"Took me a while too." Sam laughed. "So what have you got brewing?"

"I'm thinking maybe an official endorsement announcement, in either Iowa or South Carolina. Our numbers are gonna get a boost from this anyway. Have them do a little campaigning together where we need to do well in the early primaries." Josh took a sip of his champagne.

"How long have you been working on this?" Sam wondered.

"Since Leo told me that he thought we had him." Josh set his glass down. "They're a good mix, youth and experience. Academic and military. Economic and Foreign policy. Should help us marginalize Wiley. We'll be the only team out there with Hoynes."

"Your old boss, that worry you?" Sam inquired hesitantly.

"No." Josh answered. "If he wanted to win, he should have listened to me in the first place."

1716 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

Harm sat in his stateroom divvying up the next round of combat mission assignments for the upcoming week. Orders came in from the NATO Commander to the skipper who relayed them to the CAG so that he could set up the flight schedules to coincide with NATO operations and his Hornets or Tomcats could be used either as support aircraft. As Harm worked on the schedules, his computer show the pictures that Mac had sent him this morning via her computer at work from her time last night at the DNC fundraiser. There were pictures of her and Sturgis, pictures of her and Bobbi and pictures of her with other people that she'd met there and perhaps taken a shine to.

Harm made note of the fact that there were no pictures of her and Nate. Well, there likely was but she had made the decision not to send them He wondered why. It could be that all the pictures there were of the two of them had simply been taken by other people and she didn't have one of her own, or it could be that he had been pulled away by so many other people over the course of the night that she simply had never gotten the chance to get her own picture of the two of them. Or maybe, there was another reason that she hadn't sent that picture.

He quickly banished that thought from his head as he moved on to a few of the other pictures that she had sent. Ones of her with Harriet and Beverly, the soon-to-be wife of his former CO, doing wedding preparations together and pictures of her with Little AJ as she took him off Bud and Harriet's hands for a day. Their communication was much more enjoyable to him know. He could tell whether she was in a good mood simply by whether she called him 'Harm' or 'Flyboy' in the tag line for the letter. Normally, he couldn't admit it even to himself, but being out her on the Nimitz actually made him miss Mac and confront the depth of the feelings he had once held, and perhaps still held for her. He didn't know why. The days that reeked of jet fuel and innumerable liaisons with Kate would never take that away from him.

The screen sat empty for a few more seconds. They'd traded emails frequently over the month he'd been aboard ship. He was sure that she knew he was on the Nimitz now, something that Harriet had likely passed along after Bud told her in an email. Now, he was going to come clean for himself. He wasn't sure why now. A part of him said it was because he didn't like lying, but he knew that wasn't it. The real reason why was because he knew his flying made her think about him, worry about him, even feel for him. He wanted to be in her thoughts as much as she was finding herself in his. He wanted absence to make her heart grow as fond as it had his. But he wasn't sure it ever would. Nevertheless, he figured it was about time to try.

His fingers danced over the keyboard as he began his own email.

To: "Sarah MacKenzie"  
From: "Harmon Rabb"

Dear Sarah ....


	14. Cover Me

"Hey CAG, we're approaching the engagement area, you get any readings from the painters on the ground?" Priest called through the radio as he and Harm led the Black Aces in a troop support mission into the mountains of the area southeast of Kabul.

"Nothing, we should be getting readings on the ground targets by now." Harm checked the instrument panel in front of him. "You getting anything back there, Skates?"

"Not a thing, sir." Skates replied promptly.

"How far out from the target area are we?" Harm checked in with his RIO again.

"No more than a minute-ten, sir." Skates answered again.

"Alright, if we don't start seeing readings in the next thirty seconds, I'm gonna scrub this and take us back to the ship." Harm decided as the planes descended below Angels 10. There should have been something, either readings on targets from the painters on the ground or an order from Captain Rice aboard the Nimitz telling them to return home because the mission had been scrubbed. That led Harm to the conclusion that someone on the ground somewhere had screwed something up. On the ground, the Marines and the Canadians were running a night time fire-fight against some Taliban fighters in the mountains near the embattled territory of Waziristan. "Anything, Skates?"

"I've got something, CAG." Priest's voice took over the radio. "Couple of close together surface targets, heading one-four-niner. I'll take them."

"You see them, Skates?" Harm checked in with his RIO.

"Maybe." Skates answered. "It's faint but it looks as though there might be something there."

"Alright, Priest, you take them and I'll wait for the next set of readings to come in." Harm ordered and he watched as Priest dove away to make his run. The younger pilot pulled up and returned to formation a few moments later.

"Looks like they were targets, sir. The signal's gone from the radar." Skates told Harm.

"Good to hear." Harm exhaled hard. "Nice shooting, Priest. Any more readings, Skates?"

"None that I make, sir." Skates took a breath herself.

"I make us mark plus 22 minutes, what about you, Skates?" Harm looked in the mirror that allowed him to see into the backseat.

"I make it mark plus 23, sir" Skates' eyes met his in the mirror.

"Alright, let's head for home, boys and girls." Harm turned his Tomcat around and rode the afterburners for a while to make it back to the Nimitz. Everyone made it back aboard without incident, Harm and Priest were still dead level in their competition to be King of the greenie board. The pilots headed toward the squad bay when they were intercepted by the Skipper. "What's up, Skip?" Harm stopped at the head of the group.

"Sorry to kill the party, CAG, but I just got off a call with the NATO Commander, seems like that target that Priest lit up wasn't Taliban fighters, it was the Canadians involved in the exercise." Skipper shook his head. "Sorry to say kid, but the NATO Commander wants a JAG inquiry into the incident and I've got to go along with him. Commander Pike will investigate, Lieutenant Roberts will defend you."

"Sir, if it's alright with you, sir, no." Priest jumbled his response.

"No what, Commander?" The Skipper turned on his junior officer.

"Due respect to the Lieutenant, sir, but I want the CAG defending me." Priest explained.

"That's your right, Commander, but I'd think that the CAG's testimony might be more valuable to you as a character witness." The Skipper offered.

"The man has a point, Priest." Harm looked to the young aviator he had come to see as a friend.

"Sir, I want you as my defence counsel." Priest re-affirmed.

"Fine, the NATO Commander wants this incident thoroughly prosecuted, so I'll assign Roberts to aid Commander Pike and I'll talk with Admiral Chegwidden about having someone from his office sent out to assist with the defence." The Skipper nodded. "Pending the outcome of this investigation though, Commander, you're grounded."

Priest hung his head. He loved being behind the stick Having his wings clipped was arguably punishment before any determination of guilt. "Understood, sir."

"Alright, I suggest you all get some shut eye." The Skipper examined the faces of the Black Aces in front of him. "Because this three ring legal circus is going to get an early start tomorrow.

0330 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

Mac hated the International Dateline. Flying into the time zones in the CENTOM Theatre created more jet lag than the cases were often times worth. But today was something different. She was going to be working with her old partner in defence of Lieutenant Commander Fanelli who was involved in a friendly fire incident with some Canadian NATO troops a few days earlier. By the time her COD had landed for a final refuel in Okinawa, she looked up at a television tuned to CNN to find that Senator Latham had already launched a parallel armed services committee investigation into the incident. Her committee had jurisdiction, given to them by the Majority Leader over the Foreign Relations committee who also had some interest.

The COD had landed just before 0900 a few days after the incident with Mac aboard. She was anxious to work with Harm and Bud again. Taking her first steps out of the COD Mac looked up and saw Harm standing there just outside the hatch in his khakis. With that new mustache coming in, she had to do a double take, her mind flashing instantly to that old picture of Harm's dad that used to be in his office. He really was the spitting image. Well, he was wearing a pair of Eagles on his collar instead of Lieutenant's bars but the resemblance was still scary.

"Colonel MacKenzie." Harm greeted with a smug smile.

"Captain Rabb." Mac came to attention in front of him.

"Stand easy, Mac." Harm shot her a flyboy grin. "Been a while, Mac."

"Little more than a month, Harm, you miss me that much?" Mac grinned a little as well.

"Everyday, Mac. Twice a day on the weekends." Harm commented as they stepped into the interior of the ship.

"That's very sweet, Harm." And an odd personal admission, Mac added to herself silently. Harm and her had always been masters of not saying enough in their dealings with each other and always keeping their feelings supremely well hidden. "I've missed you, too. Without you and Bud in the office, I've become the bearer of most of the Admiral's bad moods. I've considered using Tiner as a human shield on several occasions."

"Not a bad strategy." Harm laughed. "Speaking of strategy..."

"Ah yes, our case." Mac tried to figure out something to do with her hands before simply letting them hang at her sides. "I can't believe that the NATO Commander let you serve as defence counsel."

"I can't believe it either but Priest was able to retain me as counsel before Kate had the chance to label me as a witness whose testimony would be integral to the investigation of the facts in this case." Harm answered. "He needs someone in his corner."

"Well now he's got two of the best, right?" Mac joshed as they moved into his stateroom. "Done any interviews yet?"

"Talked to Skates, the Air Boss, the AWACS boys and Demon in the last few days." Harm answered.

"Demon?" Mac questioned.

"Lieutenant Damian Heller." Harm responded. "Our client's RIO."

"Alright, you get anything damning or otherwise out of them?" Mac sat in a chair in the stateroom.

"Demon says the kill was good, Air Boss says that Priest operated by the book. They'll both make good witnesses for our case." Harm leaned back in his chair. "The AWACS guys are a little less certain."

"What was the nature of the mission?" Mac was intrigued.

"We were doing a troop support run. Basically, the Marines on the ground have a scope that paints a target and relays the signal through the AWACS to our birds so that we can target it and kill it." Harm explained, this time leaning toward Mac. "AWACS sends whatever signals they get on their radar through to us during the exercise. Now, the AWACS boys say the signal they got from the ground was unclear but they patched it through anyway. Priest says he saw it and Demon says he saw it, too. But Skates and the AWACS guys aren't sure if it was a genuine target or just static."

"Well, what would cause static?" Mac's voice began to carry that hint of soft intrigue that he had so missed.

"Could be anything, a solar flare, a flock of migrating birds, even a really bad cumulus cloud has been known to play games with the radar." Harm looked over her shoulder, an attempt to avoid her molten brown eyes. "A solar flare is unlikely considering it was night mission and I think we're outside whatever rainy season Afghanistan gets."

"Doesn't leave us with a lot of options." Mac twiddled her thumbs. "I think you might have waylaid me a little too long, I should probably check in with the Skipper."

"I'll take you to him." Harm got up out of his chair and guided Mac to the hatch. Mac had never been one for sea duty, her time on the Guadalcanal not withstanding, it was one of the many advantages she believed the Marines had over their Navy counterparts. But somehow, being on a carrier with Harm made everything feel natural and it took her back to the many carrier investigations that they'd handled early on in their partnership. They made their way up to the bridge and Mac came to attention before the Skipper.

"Colonel MacKenzie reporting, sir." Mac rhymed off and the skipper turned to face her.

"Your COD landed twenty minutes ago, Colonel, did the CAG decide to give you the extended tour?" The Skipper questioned as he turned around.

"You know the CAG, sir." Mac responded, pleased to see the face of Captain Rice, now a skipper but once a Lieutenant Commander she'd known as 'Karma'.

"Indeed I do, Colonel." The Skipper smiled. "You're here to aid him in defending Commander Fanelli, I trust you'll do that to the best of your capabilities."

"I will, sir." Mac nodded.

"Good, because I just got this communique from Commander Pike and Lieutenant Roberts in Kabul. It seems they've finished conducting interviews with the personnel in country that were a part of the incident in question and are referring charges to an Article 32 hearing." The Skipper handed Mac the piece of paper. "I'd suggest you inform your client of these developments."

"Aye, sir." Mac nodded to the Skipper.

"Skipper, I'd like the chance to go ashore and interview the witnesses that Commander Pike and Lieutenant Roberts have spoken to, sir." Harm interjected.

"I understand that, CAG, but it'll have to wait. I've gotten order from the SECNAV to accommodate two members of the Senate Armed Services Committee who are on their way out here to conduct an investigation of their own. One of them would like no doubt accompany you, Captain, so we'll wait for them to arrive tomorrow." The Skipper moved toward the helm.

"Aye, sir." Harm answered. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, dismissed." Karma nodded and with that the two former partners headed off the bridge.

"Pike as in Kate Pike?" Mac questioned, a little bit of the green monster showing through in her voice as Harm guided her to her temporary quarters aboard ship.

"Yeah, she's the NATO Force JAG afloat for this cruise." Harm tried a nervous smile. "Did I forget to mention that in an email?"

"Uh, yeah." Mac answered simply. "Have you two had fun catching up?" Mac's tone was sarcastic enough to cut like a knife.

"A little." Harm answered, trying to hold his cards close.

"Uh huh." They stopped in front of Mac's quarters.

"What does that mean?" Harm tried to feign shock.

"I just know how much....fun Kate can be." Mac answered before stepping into her quarters and closing the hatch behind her.

0217 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

Being on a carrier took Nate back to his time with the 15th MEU out of Camp Pendleton during the Gulf War when he'd been assigned to the USS Belleau Wood, a part of the Ike Carrier Battle Group. He knew the stink of jet fuel and the uncomfortable feeling of having to pull a helmet off your head as you got off the COD certainly didn't help matters. He was at least dressed for the occasion, someone should have told Bobbi Latham that a carrier was not the environment for a pant-suit. "That's what a trap feels like?" Bobbi shouted as they stepped off the COD.

"Yup." Nate's answer was simple.

"Why the hell would anyone want to do that on a regular basis?" Bobbi shouted again.

"It's thrilling, Bobbi." Nate answered as he smiled over his shoulder. The two of them were greeted by the ship's Public Affairs Officer who had taken them to the bridge straight away.

"How the hell could you sleep on the plane?" Bobbi asked as they made their way toward the bridge.

"I'm a Marine." Nate laughed as they navigated another knee-knocker.

"That's your answer?" She pressed disbelievingly.

"I've found it usually works." He chuckled again as they stepped through the hatch on to the bridge.

"Senator Ross, Senator Latham, good to have you two aboard." The Skipper extended the pro forma greeting.

"Somehow, I doubt that, Skipper." Nate answered for the two of them. "But we'd like to just get down to work and get out of your hair as soon as possible."

"Well, I'd like to get a little sleep first." Bobbi chimed in. "It's been almost thirty hours."

"In that case, Senator Latham, you'll share Visitor's Quarter's down in female officer country with Colonel MacKenzie. You can sit in on her interviews today with everyone but her client, because of privilege. Senator Ross, head down to the CAG's stateroom and grab a flight suit. You and Captain Rabb will head ashore and conduct interviews with the personnel on the ground who were involved in the incident." The Skipper explained. "Any complaints?"

Bobbi was about to chime in when Nate interrupted her. "None, Skipper."

"Good." The Skipper nodded and the two Senators headed off the bridge with the ship's PAO.

"What the hell, Nate? Why did you cut me off?" Bobbi demanded.

"This is the Skipper's boat, his own private fiefdom. If we want any co-operation at all, we need to keep him happy and pissing him off is not conducive to that." Nate answered with a no-nonsense look on his face. "Ensign," Nate addressed the PAO, "show Senator Latham to her quarters, I can find the CAG's stateroom on my own."

"Yes, sir." The PAO nodded and directed Bobbi toward where she was to be quartered. Nate had heard from AJ that Mac was aiding in the defence on this case, so he knew she was aboard. He just hadn't had the time to tell her that he would be as well. He'd been practically born into the Marine Corps and had even done a tiger cruise on board an amphibious assault ship at 10 years old. Navigating knee knockers and knowing aft, stern, starboard and port were just a part of his upbringing. He got to the CAG's stateroom and tapped on the hatch.

"It's open!" He heard a familiar voice call from inside.

"Well, if it's going to be unlocked, at least it's in a good neighbourhood." Nate joked as he stepped through to find Harm and Mac sitting there with the man he presumed was their client. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Hey, Nate....uh, I mean Senator." Harm got up out of his chair, walked over and shook his hand.

"It's Nate to you, Harm." Nate grinned as he shook Harm's hand. "Hey, sweetheart." His eyes met Mac's.

"Hey." She leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Me and Bobbi are running the Armed Forces Committee's investigation into the incident." He answered. "I just got off the COD but I got pretty good sleep."

"They sent you two?" Mac questioned. "Experience with the JAG lawyers involved?"

"They figured we might actually get the whole story, yeah." Nate nodded. "Speaking of which, Skipper says you're headed ashore in a few minutes." He looked to Harm.

"Yeah." Harm nodded.

"He told me to suit up because you're taking me along." Nate informed Harm.

"You realize we're taking a Tomcat, right?" Harm inquired.

"I figured that when he told me to get a flight suit." Nate answered.

"Flying a Tomcat's a little different than flying commercial, Nate."Harm goaded him just a little bit which caused Mac to role her eyes.

"I did a few supersonic hops to get place to place when I was on active duty." Nate gave a quick countering grin. "Just tell me when to be ready and where I can go to get ready, CAG."

"Make it about twenty minutes, head down to the squad bay and open up the storage locker, there'll be some spare gear in there." Harm pointed aft down the hall. "Head down one flight and start traversing aft, you can't miss it." Nate ducked out of the stateroom and headed toward the squad bay. "Well, that was interesting, huh?"

"You get stuck with Nate and an F-14 ride while I get to do follow up interviews here?" Mac shook her head in disbelief. "Where do I sign up for that kind of luck?"

"Luck nothing." Harm laughed. "I get rewarded because my heart is pure."

"Pure coal maybe." Mac joked and Harm looked wounded. "Just don't crank the heat up in the cockpit, alright? Everyone knows that you're a pilot and he's not, there's no need to try and prove it by pulling a juvenile stunt."

"Yes, mom." Harm and Priest laughed while Mac tried to stare them down.

"Lieutenant, you're dismissed." Mac looked at Priest who snapped to before ducking through the hatch. "So, what do you think about the case?"

"Mac, that kid is the best damn driver I have ever flown with. I'm his CAG, he's my wingman and he's also my friend. I take him at his word." Harm answered, a seriously expression overtaking his previous lighthearted smile.

"That's good because Bud and Commander Pike are going to come at him with everything they've got." Mac found it easier to refer to Kate as Commander Pike, she also found that every time she did, Harm got this guilty expression on his face which made her curious. Her desire to wring Kate's scrawny neck had hit its peak earlier, her own want to avoid awkwardness and personal confusion had kicked into high gear the second her boyfriend appeared through the hatch to Harm's stateroom.

"I think I've got to kick you out." Harm motioned toward the hatch with a tension breaking laugh. "I've got to get ready to head ashore."

"Yeah, yeah, I think you just want to get rid of me." Mac joked as she headed out of his quarters. "We'll commiserate on the best strategy when you get back?"

"Yeah." Harm answered simply before breaking off from Mac and heading down to the squad bay. He and Nate both put on flight suits, grabbed helmets and headed for the flight deck. Harm climbed up first and Nate got into the backseat before the canopy was brought down. As the experienced pilot, Harm went over the pre-flight checklist to make sure everything was in order before the plane was moved into position on the catapult. He gave the thumbs up to the plane captain on the deck.

Up on the bridge, Mac was standing with Bobbi Latham, Kate Pike and Bud Roberts watching the plane ready itself to go up.

"Nimitz tower, this is Sea Monster 2-4-6, pre-flight checklist complete." Harm called in.

"Roger that, Sea Monster 2-4-6. The pattern is empty, you are clear for take-off." The Air Boss' voice responded over the radio from his place in the pri-flight tower. The catapult launched the F-14 off the deck and into the sky. Mac watched the plane go up and hoped that not only would it land safely at it destination but that it would safely return here. For her, it had some pretty precious cargo aboard.

1201 ZULU

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE KANDAHAR...

The F-14 had landed on the Canadian base at Kandahar. Nate watched as Harm interviewed the surviving members of the Canadian contingent in the sick bay or their quarters on base. He tried to ask as few questions himself as he found necessary and stay out of Harm's way. Nate recognized that with Lieutenant Commander Fanelli's career on the line, the JAG questions took precedence and likely as not were more than sufficient to the discovery of facts. They would take a jeep from the Canadian base to the Marine base outside of Kabul and the Marines would give them a lift back to the Canadian base where they'd load up in the F-14 and head back to the Nimitz.

"She's sure dry and arid out here, Sergeant." Nate jested with their Canadian driver.

"Yes, sir." The Sergeant answered back. "But she's good country for working on your tan, sir."

"I'd wager you're out here to do more than work on your tan, Sergeant." Harm commented as her finally removed his eyes from the road. "How can you tell that we're still on the right track, Sergeant?"

"Oh, I've driven her a few times, Captain, she's a tough road during the night because you miss some of the rocks and hills you use as markers. National Defence Headquarters is a little behind on getting all our GPS units out here." The Sergeant explained.

"How far out do you think we are?" Nate leaned over the front seat.

"I'd say a little under an hour, sir." The Sergeant's answer was punctuated by a loud explosion The recon vehicle was tossed into the air along with everyone inside of it. The amount of dust kicked up in the desert was enough to make someone this a storm had hit. Nate and Harm were lucky enough to be tossed clear of the overturned vehicle but their driver had been trapped under it. All of them had taken nasty blows to the head.

Harm was the first to regain consciousness. He checked his fingers and toes for movement, once he was sure he had movement in his arms and legs he got to his feet but was struck by momentary dizziness. A few seconds later Nate war rousted back to consciousness. He followed the same procedure checking for movement in his arms and legs. He had some throbbing pain in his left leg but he was otherwise in working order. When he tried to get to his feet, he fell back to his butt, howling in pain. When the dust cleared, Nate looked down at his left leg and saw that just above the ankle, the down angle of the bone began to contort at an odd angle, twisting the foot at about a twenty degree angle off centre. Nate looked up and saw Harm.

"How's the driver?" Nate asked through gritted teeth.

"He's dead." Harm answered simply. "Either blunt force trauma to the head or being crushed by the vehicle, either way it happened fast. That foot doesn't look too good."

"Nah, it's busted." Nate grimaced.

"Think you can get up?" Harm crouched down.

"I'll walk on it." Nate swallowed hard. "But you're gonna have to help get me to my feet."

"Damn Marines." Harm grunted as he extended his arm down to Nate who grabbed it and Harm hauled him to his feet. "Pain?"

"Incredible pain." Nate answered. "Let's divvy up the pack. We'll each take a rifle and some ammo, I'll take the medical stuff, you take the water canteen."

"I'm the senior officer here, Colonel." Harm reminded him, half kidding.

"True, but on this foot I know what I can carry and the water is heavier than the medical gear." Nate slung the M16 over his shoulder and stuffed the magazines into his pockets. He slung the medical bag over his other shoulder and started walking. "This is gonna be tougher than I thought."

"But you'll get through it right?" Harm gently put a hand on Nate's shoulder.

"Hell yeah." Nate answered with a quick nod. "Sergeant said it was about an hour northeast to the Marines, right?"

"Yeah, travelling at 30 miles an hour." Harm answered. "That ankle pretty much leaves double timing it out of the question. There should be a syringe and a couple vials of morphine in the medical bag. You take one, you might be able to increase your pace."

Nate searched through the bag and found the syringe but only one vial of morphine. "Goddamn it!" He cursed. "You'd think with all the fuckin' poppies in this country we could at least stock up on morphine."

"No such luck, well plug her in there and we'll get going." Harm suggested.

"Nah, we've only got about two or three hours of daylight left." Nate looked up at the sky. "If that. I waste this now, we'll have none for the morning when my adrenaline wears off from surviving the crash and the pain really becomes unbearable. What his the jeep anyway?"

"Probably an IED." Harm commented. "Goddamn things are all over the roads around here. What do you mean morning? You plan on spending the night out here? It's only thirty miles to the base."

"If you know where the base is, that's true." Nate winced again as they began to walk. "You and I have no damn idea where the base is, we just have a compass and a faded road."

"Good point." Harm allowed. "We stick too close to the road and we'll be sitting ducks."

"But we've got to at least keep it in sight." Nate reminded him. "I think we head to the high side of the road and keep our bearing for Northeast, we might make twelve, fifteen miles tonight."

"You're going to hike that much distance on that ankle with no morphine?" Harm questioned disbelievingly.

"I'm a Marine." Nate answered simply as he moved along. If he were to tell the truth, he'd like nothing better than to sit by the crash site and wait to be rescued. Walking on this damn ankle was hurting like hell. They said that bone pain was the worst kind of pain you could experience and from what he was going through. He looked back and saw Harm pulled a few things out from under the hood of the vehicle. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I learned years ago when Mac and I got trapped up in the Appalachians that you never know when you might need spare parts." Harm wrenched a piece of the fuel line and a few spark plugs out of the vehicle. "Just in case."

"Uh huh." Nate gave him an amused look. "I need a Marine and they give me a boy scout."

"Hey, I'm an aviator, too." Harm protested.

"Which only comes in handy if we have to fly something." Nate shot back. "Right now we're humping our way through thirty miles of open desert, we may even right now be in enemy territory and you are cannibalizing parts from an engine in case we run into an SAR team with engine trouble?"

"Just being prepared." Harm rebuffed.

"Like I said, a boy scout." Nate shook his head.

"Made it all the way to Eagle." Harm smiled fondly as they started their hike through the desert.

"At least you and I can agree on one thing." Nate offered.

"Oh yeah, and what's that?" Harm chuckled a little as he and the Marine climbed to the high side of the road.

"We both think Commander Fanelli is innocent." Nate was starting to learn how much weight he could put on the injured leg.

"Well, that's something at least." Harm nodded his appreciation as the two of them moved through the desert.

1826 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

"Will Colonel MacKenzie, Commander Pike, Lieutenant Roberts and Senator Latham please report to the bridge." The Skipper announced. Damn it, he should have figured with the CAG's history that something like this would have happened. Losing his CAG and a United States Senator on a simple mission like this wouldn't look good. His CAG had the respect of every aviator on the boat, most of them would soon enough be on the bridge demanding the right to do flyovers of the area to locate them.

Mac, Bud, Kate and Bobbi all reported to the bridge within a few minutes of each other and there found the Skipper carrying a very grim expression. "Reporting as ordered, sir." Mac answered for the other officers.

"Requested in my case." Bobbi added.

"Well people, there is no easy way to say this." The Skipper started. "Captain Rabb and Senator Ross were en route from the Canadian base at Kandahar to the Marine base southwest of Kabul when their recon vehicle hit an IED on the side of the road."

Mac's face went as white as a ghost, it couldn't be. She couldn't lose both of them at once. Her mind drifted to a thought Harm had once expressed, about how any man who'd ever gotten close to her was either dead or wished he was. It was a cruel twist of fate for this to happen to them...to her. She looked to Bud who looked equally as mortified and Kate who looked about to panic, but trying to hide her own feelings as best she could. Bobbi Latham's stoic demeanour was the product of years spent in politics and the law. She was fond of both Harm and Nate but would likely not show her own concern in front of others out of fear that it would be seen as weakness.

"Are they...uh...are they?" Bud was the first to regain the power of speech but even he couldn't bring himself to use the word.

"No, Lieutenant." The Skipper answered. "After being informed that the Captain and the Senator were en route, the Marines waited for them. But when a two hour trip turned into six hours, the Marines sent out a search and rescue operation. They came across the wreckage, the driver was dead but the other two appear to have proceeded on foot. With darkness having fallen, they'll resume their search in the morning."

"They're giving up on them tonight?" Mac questioned, her rage barely withheld.

"They couldn't find them if they wanted to tonight, Colonel." The Skipper answered. "The Senator and the CAG both have significant levels of survival training tucked under their belt, I think they can survive one night in the desert. While I don't enjoy leaving them out there to the elements and possible ambush by insurgents, and I communicated such to the Marine commander, I'm informed that they are armed and knowing something about their personal histories, I wouldn't want to be any insurgent that decided in favour of ambushing them."

Mac and Bud couldn't help but nod. Harm did have the tendency for getting himself into jams and slowly but surely working his way out of them. Mac had to admit that if either one of them were stranded out in the desert, and she couldn't be out there with them, she couldn't think of anyone better for Nate or Harm to be stranded out there with.

"Will that be all, sir?" Mac looked to the Skipper.

"Those of you who are required to follow my orders, consider this an order to get some shut eye. Those of you not required to follow my orders, consider this a suggestion." The Skipper informed the group. "Dismissed."

Everyone headed back to their quarters, Bud headed for his stateroom while Mac, Bobbi and Kate were all quartered in female officer's country. "You alright, Mac?" Bobbi and Mac might never have been very close but she certainly understood the sheer gravity of what had to be on Mac's mind and felt that as a fellow human she could at least empathize.

"I...uh...I..." Mac strained to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Come on, Colonel, you heard the Skipper. They're not dead, they're armed and the Marines are out there looking for them." Kate intervened.

"That's not the point, Commander." Mac turned on Kate. "Two people I care about are stranded perhaps wounded in what could be enemy territory without back-up. Now, I'm sorry if you don't care enough about Captain Rabb to worry about him in this case but that's your cross to bear."

"Due respect, Colonel, but I think you're the last person in this room that can speak with any clarity about feelings and Captain Rabb." Kate fired right back.

"Commander, do not mistake my current concern for the Senator and the Captain for weakness because if you ever talk to me like that again, I will have no qualms about kicking your Squid ass off the fantail and into the screws, understood?" Mac got right in her face.

"Ladies!" Bobbi stepped in to mediate. "I don't think this kind of behaviour is necessarily productive. Now, we're all tired and in light of the news we just received probably a little emotionally exhausted, I think we can agree that it's probably best to just end this now?"

Mac and Kate tried to stare each other down like a couple of proud lionesses attempting to assert their domain. In this case, who was more concerned about Harm's well being. They both reluctantly nodded. Mac and Bobbi stepped into their guest quarters while Kate continued on to hers. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Senator." Mac looked to Bobbi.

"You care about Harm and Nate, it's understandable." Bobbi folded her arms in front of her chest. "But I'm not sure you had to light up Commander Pike like that."

"She's sleeping with him." Mac muttered in a voice only slightly above a whisper.

"How can you tell?" Bobbi stepped forward, her hands moving to a place on her hips.

"Six years spent with Harm, I just can." Mac answered.

"Then the question becomes, why do you care?" Bobbi pressed on.

"Because she doesn't seem to care he's missing." Mac covered.

"Didn't say it was a question you had to answer to me, just to yourself." Bobbi took a seat on the edge of her rack. "Now, I suggest we heed the Skipper and get some shut eye."

SAME TIME

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE KABUL...

"Looks like about as good a place as we're going to find to hunker down for the night." Nate and Harm stood at the entrance to a small cave. "Tuck your pants into your boots."

"Why?" Harm looked to his current partner.

"Gets cold out in the desert at night, snakes go looking for a place to stay warm and they've been known to crawl up pant legs or down into combat boots." Nate explained. "Without anti-venom on hand, my only option would be to suck the poison out and with you, pal, the old story about Tonto and the Lone Ranger would come into play."

"Tonto and the Lone Ranger?" Harm questioned as the two of them settled into the cave.

"One day Tonto and the Lone Ranger are out on a ride when Silver throws the Lone Ranger to the ground and a rattler bites him on the balls." Nate started to laugh. "Well the Ranger is doubled over in pain, so he looks to Tonto and says 'Tonto ride back into town and ask the Doc what to do'. So, Tonto beats in back into town, breaks down the door of the doctor's office and asks the Doctor what to do in the event of a snake bite. The Doctor tells him that you've got to seal your lips around the puncture wound and suck the poison out. Tonto thanks the doctor and gets back on his horse chanting 'suck out poison, suck out poison, suck out poison'. Finally he gets back to the Lone Ranger and the Lone Ranger looks at him and says 'Tonto, what did the doctor say?' And with a heavy heart, Tonto looks down at his partner and says 'Doctor says, you gonna die'." Nate finished and he and Harm broke out laughing.

"Your way of saying that if I get myself bit, you're just gonna let me die here?" Harm shoved his shoulder lightly.

"Nah, Mac would probably kill me if I did that." Nate mused. "I'd probably suck the poison out, but you'd owe me."

"Yeah, yeah." Harm replied. There it had finally been brought up. The elephant, as much as he knew Mac would kill him for referring to her as such, in the room with him and Nate. Nate seemed to realize that the uneasiness had reached a new level as well. "Speaking of surviving the cold..."

"I'm not sharing body heat with you." Nate shot him a serious look. "I'd freeze first."

"In which case Mac would kick my ass." Harm commented.

"Fine how you want to do this?" Nate grumbled.

"Head to feet." Harm suggested.

"I gotta spend a night with your ugly, stinking combat boots in my face?" Nate rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I gotta look at your disgusting twisted ankle." Harm shot back.

"Good point." Nate laughed as they settled in. A few minutes of silence passed, Nate hoped the two of them could just get some sleep, he'd wake up in the morning, take the morphine and they'd be on their way.

"Hey, Nate." Harm chanced.

"Yeah." Nate answered drowsily.

"Do you love her?" Harm had to know, like a carnivorous insect it had been eating at him since he'd accidentally overheard the two of them in Jacksonville a few months back.

"Very, very much." Nate answered. He let a few seconds pass, they turned into moments. He was amazed how much that simple little question could keep him awake. "Do you?" He returned the volley. More seconds passed. When he was greeted by a snore, he knew he wasn't getting an answer tonight.


	15. No Surrender

Sunlight crested the hills of Afghanistan. The wind wasn't cold, the sun warmed everything in the desert. Where they were in Afghanistan had them just East of the mountain range that formed the spine of the country. The mountainous region was conducive to finding caves like the one that Nate and Harm had used that night. When Nate awoke first, he was initially confused as to his surroundings but the presence of a pair of large Navy issue combat boots in his face brought him reeling back to reality. The dull throbbing ache just above his left ankle was another sign that what he had hoped was a dream was actually the previous day. "Aaahhh!!" Nate groaned as he rolled out of position.

"Nate? What the..." Harm jested as he slowly came alive. "Oh right."

"Yeah, oh right." Nate commented sarcastically as he slid out of the cave. "Fuck!" Nate grimaced as he groped for the medical bag.

"How's the pain?" Harm crawled out and watched as Nate fished through the medical bag.

"Unbearable." Nate said through gritted teeth. He pulled off his boot and rolled up his pant leg. The leg was discoloured and swollen. Nate grabbed one of the elastic tie-offs and he wrapped it around his leg to make the veins more prominent. He assembled the syringe, capped the vial and filled the syringe. He flicked the tip and gave the needle a quick squirt to test it. "Once more unto the breach." Nate joked sardonically.

"Just be accurate, Marine." Harm coached and he watched as Nate stabbed the skin with the needle.

"You know I always hated needles growing up?" Nate tried to keep his hand steady as he pushed the plunger down. "Kind of ironic, huh?"

"I'll laugh later." Harm commented quickly as he watched the last of the morphine drain into Nate's leg. "We'll give you a second before making you hike it."

"You know this kind of shit could only happen to me, huh?" Nate laughed as he chucked the needle.

"Or somebody traveling with me." Harm added. "You ready to hike it, Marine?"

"Yes, sir." Nate groaned as he pulled the pant leg back down and laced up the boot.

"You sure you should be tying that thing so tight?" Harm questioned.

"One of two things will happen. Either by the time the morphine wears off, the laces will have cut off all circulation and the foot will be numb. Or it'll hurt like hell and we'll have to stop so I can take a couple of those ibuprofen." Nate got to his feet without assistance.

"Well, that's something you couldn't do yesterday." Harm offered to help him get going.

"Yeah, I might have to lay off my attacks into the big pharmaceutical companies when I get back to Washington." Nate gave another caustic laugh as they got moving. The two of them walked across the treacherous terrain starting at dawn. This day could be endless, they had no guarantee of actually finding the base they were looking for and they probably only had two more days of water left. They didn't know if anyone would be looking for them but there would be no talk of giving up hope. A few hours of walking and the sun began to beat down on their face.

"You hear that?" Harm looked to Nate.

"What?" Nate shrugged his shoulders. He watched as Harm's face turned upward toward the sky. Harm pointed up and ahead of them where a Marine CH-53 was combing the skies. Harm began to jump and down waving his arms, trying to signal the helo. Nate waved his arms and the medical bag in the air, vainly hoping that the helicopter would recognize the red cross on the bag. They kept their eyes focused on the helo right up until the moment that they saw it begin to take fire from the ground. They saw the helicopter take a few sharp turns to avoid fire before the nose took a direct hit and the engine began to sputter. A stinger missile shot up from the ground but the pilot was able to avoid it and bring the helo down to a hard landing. Harm and Nate ran, well as best as Nate could he double timed it, to the scene of the helicopter "landing" with their weapons drawn.

They arrived to find the Marines fighting off about a dozen insurgent fighters as they attempted to regain their equilibrium from the hard landing. Harm and Nate arrived with guns blazing to back up the Marines. They dispatched or forced a retreat from what insurgents were left. When the fighters had left the site, the Marine Lieutenant leading the SAR team had the chance to catch his breath and talk. "You two wouldn't happen to be Captain Rabb and Senator Ross, would you?" The Lieutenant chanced.

"Yeah." Harm answered with a nod. "You guys sent out here to find us?"

"That's affirmative, sir." The Lieutenant blinked hard, the sweat getting in his eyes. "Precious little good it does us now sir, looks like the engine's shot on the bird."

"Where's the pilot?" Harm inquired.

"Killed in the landing, sir." The Lieutenant answered. "Took her down nose first, killed himself and the co-pilot but the rest of us survived. Can't believed he dodged that Stinger, that was a beautiful piece of flying."

"I'll make sure he gets recognized for it, Lieutenant, don't worry." Harm gave the young Marine a pat on the shoulder as he moved past to look at the helo.

"He's an aviator." Nate explained when confronted with the young Lieutenant's confused look. The Marine was suddenly awash in understanding. The reserve Marine heard Harm laugh and walked over. "What's up?"

"I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it with my own two eyes." Harm laughed again. "The only thing the bullet nicked was the fuel line."

"So?" Nate questioned. "Why is that funny?"

"You remember that story about Mac and I having to set my Steerman down in Appalachia?" Harm looked over his shoulder at Nate.

"Yeah." Nate answered, still confused.

"It was because of a ruptured fuel line." Harm answered. Nate chuckled a little at the irony.

"So, what does that mean for us?" Nate shrugged his shoulders again. Harm reached into his pocket and produced a replacement fuel line. The Senator simply shook his head. "Fuckin' boy scout."

"Hey, boy scout just saved our ass." Harm answered.

"Great that you fixed the bird, sir, but can you fly this thing?" The Marine Lieutenant looked at Harm who was heading for the cockpit. "Here, sir, I'll help you move the bodies to the back." The Lieutenant climbed aboard and helped Harm clear the cockpit. The rest of the Marines followed and Harm helped Nate climb aboard.

"Harm, we've got company get this thing up off the ground!" Nate's sense of urgency carried with his words. Sure enough, the insurgents had returned in re-constituted numbers and with refurbished arms. Nate slid in behind the door gun on his side. Harm fired up the engine and the rotors on the helo began to fire up. The young Marine Lieutenant sat in the co-pilots seat next to him.

"Can we trust him to be the gunner, sir?" The Lieutenant looked to Harm.

"Lieutenant, that man is not just a Senator but a reserve Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps and one of it's best snipers, not another man out there you could trust more." Harm answered with a smile as he lifted the helo into the air. Harm turned the helo so that the door gun was facing the oncoming insurgents and he heard the massive chain gun open fire on the men below.

"Harm, could use some help here." Nate shouted from the back of the helo and Harm turned the Helo to starboard and faced down the insurgents.

"I don't know if the Captain is aware, this isn't a Tomcat, there are no missiles on this bird." The Lieutenant commented as he cast a worried look over his left shoulder.

"We'll just have to win out in a knife fight then, Lieutenant." Harm answered with a smile and began to fire the helicopter's twin machine guns, sending the fighters running with their respective tails between their legs. "Alright, let's head home."

"Aye aye, sir." The Lieutenant grinned as bird peeled off Northeast.

"How ya doing back there, Nate?" Harm called over his shoulder.

"The pain's staying at bay for the moment." Nate answered.

"We'll bring this bird home before you know it." Harm called and the Helo sailed off into the sun.

0108 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

The Skipper got the communique from the Marine Commander in country and breathed a sigh of relief. He had a damn good working relationship with his CAG and it would be a shame to have to sign requisition orders for a new one. The pilots liked the CAG, just about anyone of them would end their careers before risking his, but they wouldn't be the ones most glad to hear that the CAG was safe, no that would be reserved for the investigators aboard ship, 3 JAGs and one Senator. The Skipper took off his USS Nimitz cap and ran his hand over his hair. "XO, assemble the Black Aces in their ready room and read this communique to them." The Skipper handed over the sheet. "They should know the CAG is alright."

"Aye, sir." The XO was wearing a large smile as he took the piece of paper and headed off the bridge. Everyone on this cruise loved the CAG, hell the Skipper, XO, Air Boss and Chaplain used to play poker with him on Thursday nights.

The Skipper grabbed the radio and pulled it down in front of his mouth. "Will Colonel MacKenzie, Commander Pike, Lieutenant Roberts and Senator Latham please report to the bridge." The Skipper realized that the happiness in his own tone of voice was likely removing any suspense from the situation for those about to join him but he also didn't particularly care at this point. Damn Captain's Privilege after all to ruin suspense if he wanted to. The four people he requested all reported to the bridge mere minutes later. The Captain's smile seemed to be contagious as he addressed them "It is my great pleasure to inform the four of you that the CAG and the Senator ran into a Marine SAR sent out to rescue them this morning and have arrived at the base."

"Thank God." Mac let out a hard exhale.

"The Chaplain has already been notified, Colonel." Karma added with a smile. "The CAG and the Senator will spend most of the day, I'm told, interviewing witnesses and should be back, if not tonight then tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Skipper." Bobbi nodded to the Captain.

"Excellent news, sir." Bud grinned.

"It certainly is, Lieutenant, but this means that Commander Fanelli's Article 32 will go ahead as planned once the CAG returns. Witnesses from the ground will arrived by CH-46 tomorrow morning." The Skipper turned back toward the helm. "I suggest that you all return to your duties, a man's freedom and his career hang in the balance."

"Aye, Skipper." Mac answered for the officers present and they headed off the bridge.

"That's certainly great news isn't it, ma'am?" Bud was tickled frickin' pink as he walked with Mac back toward officer's country. Mac was on her way to conduct follow up interviews with Skates and the AWACS guys who'd been on duty the night of the accident.

"Damn sure is, Bud." Mac cheered as they headed down a flight of stairs.

For her part, Kate Pike was torn. On the one hand, she was glad, hell she was ecstatic that Harm was not only okay but able to fly back to the ship. It likely meant that whatever scrapes and bruises he might have sustained weren't too bad. On the other hand, she'd had a chance to witness first hand the personal torment that Mac went through just knowing that there was a chance that Harm could have died. Died perhaps without knowing the extent of the feelings that still lingered inside her for him. A less rational woman might have argued that Mac's feelings were amplified, even exaggerated by the fact that not one but two men she cared about were missing but Kate had seen the ferocity and depth in Mac's eyes the night before when she threatened to turn her into shark chum.

Kate couldn't really blame Mac but that didn't mean she didn't want to. Hell, Mac had Harm on an emotional string. What was it about her that was supposedly so hard to get over? She hated that Mac could so easily - at least she made it look easy – leave Harm to one side and date another man. Maybe it wasn't easy, she didn't have their complete history. And maybe it was a little envy on Kate's part. She would admit there was reason for that, the two men Mac currently had on the hook would make just about any woman happy. Why did she need both of them? So there it was, there was anger, envy and probably more than just a little frustration mixed into Kate's emotional cocktail as she navigated the knee-knockers on the two level.

Mac and Bud made their way into female officer's country on their way to interview Skates. Mac tapped on the hatch and heard the familiar voice of Harm's old RIO bid her entrance. "Colonel, ma'am" Skates snapped to attention.

"At ease, Skates." Mac indicated to the rack and Skates re-took her seat.

"Good to see you again, ma'am." Skates smiled.

"You too, Skates." Mac smiled. "Still saving Harm's butt?"

"You know the CAG, ma'am. Bound bent and determined to take a bird off every flat top in the Navy." Skates allowed herself a laugh.

"Certainly seems like that doesn't it." Mac smiled and settled into the follow up interview.

1341 ZULU

MARINE BASE

SOUTHWEST OF KABUL

Harm was conducting his final interview for the day. He'd agreed to make tapes of the interviews for Nate so that he could be wheeled right into surgery and Harm could get on with the interviews and save the Navy a little time and money. The Navy doctor who'd seen Nate when they brought him in told him how lucky he was. A few more hours and there might have been no saving the foot. Harm didn't understand the medical explanation but it had something to do with blood flow, nerve damage, muscle breakdown and a whole host of other stuff.

"Knock, knock." Nate tapped on the door to the officers quarters.

"How did you get out of sick bay?" Harm questioned as he watched him hobble in on crutches.

"I don't have to take orders when I'm not in uniform." Nate chuckled as he moved in his wheelchair over to Harm.

"So, what does the doctor say?" Harm stood over the Senator.

"That I'm an ornery pain in the ass." Nate answered with a straight face.

"I meant about the foot." Harm pointed to the white plaster cast.

"Initially a spiral fracture, became a compacted one as I walked on it." Nate began to explain. "Probably three months with this thing and the walking cast. Some PT after that to get her back to fighting strength."

"That's what? Late October?" Harm questioned.

"Something like that." Nate shrugged. "It was funny though, he wanted to put me out with nitrous to set the bone. I told him to save the gas for the guys who needed it and just stick a couple locals in me. He told me it would be really painful. I told him pain was walking on the rotten prick for fifteen miles through mountainous desert."

"Then what happened." Harm's hands were on his hips, he could sense a punchline coming.

"He shot the local in me and tried to set the bone. First time he shifted a bone fragment, I screamed bloody murder and grabbed for the nitrous mask." Nate completed the story and Harm laughed. "I'm a Marine goes only so far apparently."

"Can't believe they let you in combat." Harm shot sarcastically before sitting down to complete his interview. The Marine Lieutenant whose team had rescued them had filled Harm in about the problems that he and his men had been having with the piece of targeting equipment that the other squad of Marines had been using the night of the friendly fire incident. Harm was currently interviewing the Marine Captain who confirmed that the hardware did have some issues. If it got too cold at night the chip went haywire and would often give a 90 degree target read out, in fact acquiring a target well to one side of what the device was aimed at. It was possible that had been what happened that night. But the Captain also told Harm that the Canadians were some 30 or 40 yards in advance of where there established rendezvous position was supposed to be, which in fact put them closer to the target area. Nate was amazed, Harm's gut was proven right again and the politician could not but shake his head.

When the interview was concluded, Harm wheeled the chair out of the quarters and across the base to the VOQ. "I'm here overnight." Nate groaned. "Doc's gonna inspect me and put me on a helo tomorrow out to the Nimitz."

"Carrier's not the most wheelchair conducive environment." Harm advised Nate who climbed out of the hair and hopped on one foot over to the window so he could stand next to Harm.

"I'm aware, but I can hop." Nate laughed. "And they'll give me crutches. Besides, I've got a bottle of Percocet, I'm not worried." Nate sighed a little. "You know, I almost ended up at JAG."

"Get out of town." Harm was shocked. "How?"

"Late '91, I was staring down the barrel of a decision. I could reserve my commission, join the State Department and put my degree to good use or the Corps could send me to law school and then designate me as a JAG. I damn near did it, too."

"You telling me that I might have ended up with you as a partner?" Harm looked to the hobbled Senator.

"Probably would have." Nate answered as he slid back into the chair, his one good foot had been starting to fall asleep from carrying all his weight. "My old man was always good at pulling strings when I was in the Corps, he would have got me assigned to the most high profile JAG billet. I always kind of resented him for pulling stunts like that, which is one of the reasons I wanted to put as much distance as I could between me and the Marine Corps for a while."

"That and your brother, right?" Harm questioned, an air of empathy colouring his words.

"Yeah." Nate nodded solemnly. "Can you imagine that thought? You ending up with me as your partner?"

"Definitely would have made some cases more interesting." Harm laughed.

"And some less, right?" Nate offered, tentatively breaking the unspoken truce they had about the one topic they had in common but wouldn't discuss.

"Yeah." Harm nodded his head in understanding.

"How much longer you think we can go without talking about it?" Nate was tempted to emit a sarcastic laugh.

Damn Marines, Harm thought. Never satisfied unless they're running headlong into something. "We've done a pretty good job of it so far." Harm commented, staring out the window. "There's nothing I can say that's going to make you feel less guilty and there's nothing you can say that's going to make me feel better. We play the cards we're dealt and some people just play their hand better."

"Harm, I'm..."Nate started but Harm raised his hand.

"Don't say you're sorry." Harm interrupted. "You're not and you shouldn't be. You're just about the luckiest man on the planet and if you don't know it than I should feel sorry for you. I picked on the other guys. I picked on Dalton because he was a snake, I picked on Farrow because he abused his position of authority, I looked down on Ragle because he was scum and I hated Brumby because he was manipulative. Mac has always deserved better than she's ever let herself believe, she's deserved to be happy so many times. A kind of happiness that she chooses, not one some man decides to insert her into." Harm stopped talking, he couldn't believe he was saying this. He'd never been this articulate in his life when it came to Sarah MacKenzie. "Try your best. Because if you ever let her down, if you ever hurt her, you ever make her even think about crying and I get wind of it...I don't care how fast you can run, how high you can jump, how deep to ground you can go or who your friends are, you will feel pain."

The most terrifying part of Harm's threat was his tone. There was no shouting, no red faced or bared teeth. It was calm, steady and even in it's delivery but it possessed an ice cold intensity. "Understood." Nate gulped.

A knock came at the VOQ door. "Captain Rabb? You're helo's ready to take you back to your Tomcat, sir." A young Lance Corporal chirped.

"Thank you, Lance Corporal." Harm nodded and gave Nate another stare before heading for the door.

1806 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

Harm's trap on the Nimitz flight deck was greeted like Lindy's landing in Paris. Most of his squad was waiting to greet him along with Mac, Bud, Kate and Bobbi. "What's got everyone so excited?" Harm looked around confused.

"We know what happened on the road to the base yesterday." Skates began to explain.

"Oh." Harm looked stunned.

"Yeah, oh." Mac shook her head at him. "You feel okay?"

"I was a little shaken up after the accident, but none the worse for wear really." Harm shook it off as he headed for his stateroom. "I could really use night's...Mac?"

"Where's Nate?" Mac crossed her arms and stared at Harm.

"Got injured in the explosion yesterday." Harm watched Mac's face go white and he moved toward her. "No, nothing like that. Fibula spiral fracture that got compacted when he walked on it."

"He walked on it?" Mac crossed her arms.

"For about fifteen miles." Harm smiled. "Most of it without morphine. Doctor's got him in a wheelchair, wanted to send him home tonight on a C-17 Transport flight to Miramar but he insisted on coming back here for the trial."

"Did you tell him that a carrier isn't the best environment for a guy in a wheelchair?" Mac countered hard.

"I did." Harm nodded, knowing that they'd continued moving toward his stateroom. "He told me that the doctors have agreed to give him crutches and he knows how to get himself around on one foot."

"Damn stubborn..." Mac muttered to herself.

"Marine?" Harm chanced. "Is that what you were going to say because that's what I told him. He told me what the doctor told him, he can't make it any worse."

"Sure as hell isn't going to make life easier on himself, that's for sure." Mac rolled her eyes.

"Well if he didn't like challenges, I don't think he'd be dating you." Harm laughed as he ducked into his stateroom and Mac followed him in. Mac tried to think about whether that was an insult or a compliment, so she tried a typical Harm move, dropping chaff.

She closed the hatch. "So, when did you start sleeping with Kate?" Mac's tone was level, trying to avoid both accusation and jealousy. She wanted to sound more like just a friend asking a question.

"Did she uh...tell..." Harm scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"No." Mac shook her head. "But you just did. Well you confirmed it anyway but I had my suspicions."

"Do you care?" Harm leaned against the bulkhead, trying to turn the tables on Mac by keeping calm about this topic of conversation.

"Mostly curious." Mac commented honestly. "Wouldn't have expected it from you, not again anyway. I figured you'd be wiser...older."

"I'm almost waiting for you to make a grey hair joke." Harm tossed out.

"Maybe a little around your temples." Mac laughed.

"It's not the same last time and it also kind of is." Harm answered. "It's not technically fraternization, Kate's chain of command is NATO JAG."

"Since when did Harmon Rabb hide behind technicalities?" Mac enjoyed jousting with him. "Maybe we should talk about the case?"

"Probably a good idea." Harm nodded. "Found some new evidence on the ground that I can introduce during the Article 32. It'll save Priest."

"Why wait?" Mac questioned. "Why not bring a motion for dismissal to the judge tomorrow."

"Because you know the way that would play in the press, Mac." Harm began to pace the floor. "They would scream whitewash. All the facts will come out, but there's got to be some sweating involved for everyone for a while."

0634 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

The Article 32 had commenced that morning with opening statements. Kate had delivered for the prosecution while Harm had delivered the opening for the defence. Mac marveled at him while he stood before the court, even after all this time behind the stick and on a carrier and he was still a force to be reckoned with as a lawyer. The Prosecution had gotten to their first witnesses before the court recessed for lunch. The AWACS crew wasn't damning testimony, but it didn't exactly help Priest. Harm knew that the prosecution was going to call the members of the Marine and Canadian combat platoons after lunch once they arrived on the helo.

The helo touched down on the carrier deck with less fanfare than Harm's trap the previous day. Bud and Kate had gone back to the ship's JAG office to continue preparations for the remainder of the day's witnesses. Harm and Mac had been there to greet the helo when it touched down. Nate was silently thankful that he'd been transported with other Marines, because when the time came to be helped up into and down out of the helo, the Marines once again took care of their own. Mac and Harm came across the flight deck just after Nate had settled himself on his crutches.

"So, was the doctor glad to get rid of you?" Mac shouted over the commotion of the deck.

"You have no idea." Nate shouted back. "I think he was a few seconds from flying the helo out of the base himself last night."

"I was expecting a wheelchair." Mac searched behind Nate to see if one remained on the helo.

"They didn't have one to give." Nate explained. "I'm resigned to living life as a gimp on crutches for a while." The group walked over to the hatch. "How'd the morning go?"

"Nothing too rough." Harm cut in. "Kate's gonna call the Canadians first after lunch. She'll use them to build the emotional stakes of the proceeding and make it tough for the judge to kick this thing due to lack of sufficient evidence."

"Yeah, but considering what you and I learned from that Marine Captain, that should be sufficient cause to get the charges against Priest kicked, right?" Nate looked to the lead defence counsel.

"Well, ideally, yeah." Harm nodded hesitantly. "That kind of mechanical failure should provide grounds for a ruling of insufficient evidence to proceed to court martial. But Kate's going to bring up the fact that the Marines didn't tell her that story when she initially asked them about it. Why didn't they tell her anyway?"

"I talked to them about that on the way out." Nate groaned as they stopped in front of the Officer's Wardroom so they could grab some coffee. "Captain Koper wasn't sure that the hardware was faulty until the next night and it misfired again. But that was..."

"After Kate came and interviewed him." Harm finished the sentence. "They couldn't tell her because they didn't know." Harm chuckled but not about the case. He was laughing at how well Nate had managed to traverse the carrier on one foot. When they reached a flight of stair, Nate simply handed Harm the crutches, used the rails as crutches and hopped his way down. He didn't like admitting it necessarily but seeing that kind of indomitable inner fire made him understand Mac's decision a little more. It didn't make him like it any more but he was a little more able to understand it. He hadn't really given her a choice though, that was perhaps the part that irked at him the most. He tried to push those thoughts out of his head as they all headed for the courtroom. If he wasn't focused this afternoon, Priest was gonna end up in the brig.

Kate had operated exactly as expected. She'd called three surviving members of the Canadian combat platoon to the stand. She'd commanded the courtroom as she made each of them explain in detail what had happened from their point of view. Kate was good enough in the courtroom to make every witness sound as though they'd witnessed some kind of unbearable and scarring atrocity. Harm thought that maybe it had been a product of their partnership that they had similar styles in a courtroom. Mac had kept the cross examinations brief, in typical Mac fashion she deal mostly with the facts and with the Canadian platoon commander, how he'd likely cost his men their lives by having them so far out of position that night. It wasn't an accusation likely to play well in the politics of the trial but it was true and would all contribute to the testimony that Harm was hoping to get from Captain Koper.

"Any more witnesses, Commander Pike?" The judge questioned.

"Yes, sir." Kate rosed. "Government calls Captain Lenny Koper to the stand." Koper got up at the back of the room and walked forward to the chair next to the judge's table. Kate swore him in and began her direct examination. "Captain, you were in charge of the Marine combat platoon sent out that night were you not?"

"I was." Captain Koper affirmed.

"And was it your job to paint the targets for your support aircraft's radar?" Kate began to walk the floor.

"It was my job, ma'am. It was Sergeant Hanowski's as well." The Captain nodded.

"And you did that, Captain?" Kate continued.

"To the best of our ability, ma'am." Captain Koper folded his hands in his lap.

"And what happened then, Captain." Kate's examination was like a well choreographed dance, each movement followed by the next in a well planned sequence. But she was about to stumble.

"The targeting hardware misfired, ma'am." Captain Koper answered simply.

"It...what, Captain?" Kate stopped dead in her tracks.

"Ma'am, it gets cold in the desert at night and where we were near the mountains, almost doubly so. The chip in the scope isn't meant for that kind of cold, especially with the wind and sand that we get. So, in those conditions, it's been known to fire off at a ninety-degree angle." The Captain cleared his throat near the end.

Kate stood their stunned. It was like the floor had opened up underneath her. "Um...uh...nothing further, your honour." Kate retreated to her seat. Once she got there she cursed herself for not asking why the Captain hadn't told her about the faulty hardware when she'd interviewed him the first time.

Harm rose from behind the defense table. "Captain, how did you know what target to paint?"

"Well, sir, I knew what the Ops plan for the mission was, so I knew where the rendezvous point was supposed to be for us and the Canadians. When I saw gunfire start around forty yards ahead of the rendezvous point, I figured that had to be the resistance we were told to expect. So, after that, it was scope and click." Koper shifted in the chair.

"Did you know that the targeting hardware could malfunction?" Harm approached the stand.

"I'd heard some stories, legends and the like, but I'd never had trouble with it in the past." Koper answered, his Kentucky twang seeping through.

"How do you know that it's faulty now?" Harm folded his arms in front of his chest.

"I tested it, the night after Commander Pike questioned me the first time. Same kind of conditions, the wind was kicking up, the sand was whipping around, and she was pretty cold too. Misfired again." Koper nervously rubbed one of the knuckles on his left hand.

"Would a misfiring have had as drastic a set of consequences if the Canadians had been where the Ops plan told them to be?" Harm pressed on.

"Objection, speculation." Kate sprung out of her chair.

"Sustained." The judge answered.

"It's alright, your honour, I think we know the answer." Harm returned to the defence table.

"Any more witnesses, Commander Pike?" The judge looked over at a dejected Kate Pike.

"No, your honour." Kate answered. She knew her case was finished.

"Captain Rabb?" The judge looked to Harm, as if he knew what was coming.

"Your honour, I move for a dismissal due to insufficient evidence." Harm offered.

"Commander Pike, objections?" The judge turned back to Kate.

"Yes, sir, the defence has yet to present evidence that the facts currently before the court are insufficient." Kate replied and the judge shook his head.

"Your own witness did that, counselor." The judge responded. "Motion for dismissal is granted, Commander Fanelli, you are free to go."

One could almost hear the shouts and cheers coming from the Officer's Wardroom a deck below where the Black Aces squadron was watching the proceedings on a close circuit feed. Harm and Mac both shook hands with Priest before giving each other a quick hug. Kate hung her head, she couldn't believe that she'd been defeated so quickly. At the back of the courtroom, Nate had clapped his hands and cheered so loud that he'd sent himself tumbling backward out his chair. He was laughing as he laid flat on his back on the ground, his wounded leg sticking straight up like a scarecrow in a corn field.

"Easy up now." Harm had gotten to the back of the courtroom and reached down to help Nate up while keeping his weight off the injured leg.

"Nice win, Harm." Bobbi congratulated Harm. "You do have an affinity for rabbits and hats though."

"Well there was a time when I wanted to be the Navy's first aviator to moonlight as a magician." Harm joked as they all headed back toward the wardroom

"Harm, can I talk to you for a minute?" Kate chanced, still standing the middle of the now empty hearing room. Harm nodded and motioned for his friends to continue on to the celebrations downstairs and he'd catch up with them later. "You sandbagged me." She accused. Harm almost would have laughed at her choice of words if he wasn't so sure she'd kill him.

"I was defending my client, Kate, it would have been unethical to tell you." Harm's response was simple and to the point.

"Harm, you're not the only one interested in the truth, I sure as hell don't go around looking for innocent aviators to put in prison." Kate accused

"You rushed the charge sheet on this one, Kate." Harm told her. "If you'd waited, Koper might have come to you with his test and you could have proceeded according to that but you wanted to keep a lid on this for the press and the politics. You tried to make points with NATO Headquarters."

"I'm not an apple polisher, Harm, you know that." Kate shot back.

"Take it as it is, Kate." Harm advised and put a hand on her shoulder. "No hard feelings?"

"Yeah...right." Kate replied and Harm headed out of the hearing room to join the celebrations down in the Wardroom.

0341 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

"You sure that thing can take a catapult off a carrier deck?" Harm shouted as Nate prepared to board the COD.

"It was the trap that the dock was worried about." Nate shouted back. "Besides, I've already taken a pain killer today and the Skipper gave me a milk carton and pillow to prop the leg up on for the flight home."

"Politicians, traveling in the lap of luxury." Harm joked and gave Nate a pat on the shoulder. "We'll have a beer when I get back to the States."

"I look forward to it." Nate smiled and boarded the COD with Bobbi Latham's help.

Harm stood facing Mac as she was the last to board the COD. "Scarecrow, I think I'll miss you most of all." Harm joked and Mac popped him on the shoulder while laughing.

"I'll miss you, too, flyboy." Mac smiled weakly at him. "Try to stay out of trouble okay, otherwise the Admiral's going to send me back out here."

"Well, I'm not sure that's incentive to stay out of trouble, Colonel." Harm laughed again.

"Permission to hug the CAG?" Mac offered with a hopefully smile dancing across her lips.

"Bring it on in, Marine." Harm waved her in and Mac got up on tip-toe to hug him. "You make sure you bring your squid ass back around JAG when you get back to the States."

"You can't give me orders, Colonel." Harm playfully jousted.

"No, that one's from the Admiral." Mac countered. "Remember, he's getting married soon."

"Oh, I'll be there for that." Harm let her out of the hug and Mac boarded the COD with one final wave. Harm stepped back from the COD and toward the hatch leading back into the ship. He watched the COD launch off the deck. "I'll see you then, Sarah." He whispered and headed back into the ship.


	16. The Ties That Bind

Sam had staged a nutty when Nate had come back from the carrier with a broken leg. But the story of how he'd gotten the broken leg and what had happened immediately afterward was good enough for Sam to work a little spin through the press. Nate had felt bad about getting some press out of just following his Marine training, so he'd expedited a little paperwork and put Harm up for a Navy Cross for his actions in country. After all, his actions had saved the lives of the Marines who'd been sent out to rescue them and not only that, he and Nate had helped repel the initial attack by the insurgents and then Harm managed to manoeuvre an aircraft he had no flight hours on so that it could attack the enemy as they regrouped. Harm had saved lives, including Nate's own, and a Senator putting a military officer up for a Navy Cross, especially when he was a witness to the act in question, was usually good enough to grease the wheels at the Pentagon.

It had been six weeks since the friendly fire incident and just yesterday Nate had gotten the original plaster cast off in favour of a fiberglass walking cast. Nate had learned to accommodate his injury as he spent time in the office. He'd slide out a desk drawer, stick a pillow inside of it and prop his leg up. He was catching up on a few of his notes from the latest Select Committee hearing when he heard a tap on his door. "Come in!" Nate shouted and the door opened. He smiled when he saw ZNN correspondent Stacy Anderson walk in. "Oh crap, that's right, we've got an interview right now, don't we?"

"Not really an interview." Stacy waved for him to sit back down when he tried to get up and walk over to greet her. "I just want to get your take on the latest debate over interrogation tactics at Guantanamo."

"You want my take as the Senator from Virginia? As a Veteran Marine? Or as a high profile supporter of Bartlet for America?" Nate leaned back in his chair.

"Can you separate them?" Stacy took a seat opposite Nate.

"Yes." Nate nodded enthusiastically. "As the Senator from Virginia, I can understand the need for the legislative branch to oversee the executive branch in the conduct of a war whose operations deviate from the standard. As a Veteran Marine, I can say that I understand the feelings of those on the ground who aren't necessarily concerned with the physical well being of enemy combatants, at the same time my experiences tell me that the information often collected in such a manner is often contaminated and unreliable."

"And as an endorser of Bartlet for America?" Stacy made notes.

"Probably an opinion pretty similar to the one I have as a Senator." Nate answered and another knock came at the door. "Come in!" Nate shouted again and his old friend Nicole DiPiccio appeared.

"Hey, I saw that you were due for your monthly briefing from State and I figured I could run over and give it to you over lunch." Nicole offered and Nate smiled.

"I'm pretty booked from start to finish today." Nate answered. "Although that doesn't seem to matter today, you're the second person in a row that's just gone to my door rather than checking in through my Secretary."

"I'll check back with you later this week?" Nicole offered.

"Just make an appointment with my Secretary on the way out, she's pretty damn good at telling me where to go and what to do." Nate and Nicole shared a quick laugh and a knowing look before she closed the door behind her on the way out.

"You know, I've seen the two of you together before, I still think she has a thing for you." Stacy commented almost absently.

"Nicole? Nah, we always fought like cats and dogs." Nate looked down at the notes on his desk.

"Uh huh." Stacy seemed to remark knowingly. "So, why Bartlet? I mean word was that Hoynes was trying to lock you in from the first moment you set foot in the Senate chamber."

"I had a talk with Leo McGarry when he visited my office one afternoon. I've known Leo since I was 12, he's a friend of my old man. I know Leo to have pretty good instincts, so I agreed to sit down with Governor Bartlet and hear what he had to say. Jed's an impressive guy, mammoth intellect, and I could tell he had the good character to make a hell of a President." Nate answered.

"And Hoynes doesn't?" Stacy continued.

"Off the record?" Nate chanced and she nodded. "Not even close." Another knock came at the door and Nate rolled his eyes. "Come in!" He shouted yet again. This time the form of Lily appeared in the doorway to his inner office.

"Hey Nate, you're headed to the Pentagon this afternoon, right?" She asked.

"Yeah." Nate nodded.

"Would you mind stopping by the school and picking up Billy after football practice? It should be on your way back to the office anyway?" Lily was almost ashamed to depend on him so. He'd been so good letting her and the boys stay at his apartment and getting her this job in his office.

"Not a problem at all." Nate smiled.

"Thanks, I mean I normally wouldn't ask it's just that..." She was beginning to ramble so Nate cut her off.

"Lily, you really have to learn to take 'yes' for an answer alright?" Nate laughed and Lily smiled sweetly before disappearing back through the door.

"Since we're still off the record, who's she?" Stacy wondered aloud.

"My sister-in-law, she's the assistant for my Chief of Staff, and she's going through a separation with my brother right now, so I'm helping her out." Nate answered and Stacy suspiciously nodded her head.

"Any run-ins with the White House since you left the State Department?" She leaned forward in the chair. "On the record now."

"None, which I think makes me a rarity among Democratic Senators on the Hill." Nate laughed. "But I understand the political reality of the situation and I know that it's difficult for me to criticize a foreign policy that I played a role in shaping."

"Yeah, you always were a smart one." Stacy gave a sarcastic chuckle and continued making her notes when another knock came at the door.

Hoping it was the last one of the morning, Nate shook his head an called out again. "Come in!"

"I have walk in privileges, remember?" Mac announced as she walked into the office.

"I remember." Nate couldn't help but smile. "Mac, this is Stacy Anderson, CNN's Washington Correspondent."

"Nice to meet you." Mac extended her hand genuinely to the other woman. "Here doing an interview?"

"Just collecting some thoughts." Stacy answered. "I'd love to talk to you, too, if you've got the time. You're part of his appeal."

"How so?" Mac was a little taken aback.

"Well, you know these Washington types." Stacy commented. "The old ones and the ugly ones date June Cleaver types. The young and attractive ones date Nicole Kidman types. None of them date Marine Lieutenant Colonels. You're a strong woman and knowing who you are helps people get a grasp on who he is."

"I...uh.." Mac was stymied for a second. "I suppose I should thank you for the strong woman comment." Mac fought off a blush for a quick second. "But I don't think I'd really be comfortable with doing an interview, thanks."

"No problem, Colonel." Stacy smiled.

"Actually, I was just wondering if I could steal you away for lunch." Mac turned toward Nate.

"No can do." He shook his head. "Once I'm finished here, I've got lunch with the Select Committee Chairman, then a meeting at the Pentagon this afternoon."

"And tomorrow you're in South Carolina with Governor Bartlet, right?" Mac double-checked.

"Yeah." He nodded. "What are you up to?"

"The Admiral gave me and Harriet the afternoon off to help Bev with some wedding preparations." Mac explained. "Your sister asked me to be a bridesmaid, so I know that there's at least going to be some fitting going on."

"I'm sure you'll look beautiful." He commented as he reached for her hand. She lightly kissed him on the lips.

"I'll see you at home tonight?" She offered.

"Yeah." He nodded and Mac headed for the door.

"She's impressive." Stacy commented. "I do have one question though."

"What's up?" Nate was still looking at the door.

"Mac, Lily, Nicole, when they made you Senator, they gave you a harem?" Stacy joked and both of them shared a laugh.

1616 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

The Nimitz was about to turn for home. This was their last combat run of this tour and then the Nimitz would be replaced by the _USS Carl Vinson_ as the American carrier presence providing air support from offshore. It was a night run, of course it would be, Harm thought as they went up. It couldn't be a simple milk run around noon, they had to go up at dusk and come back to a pitching deck in the middle of a dark night. US Navy hadn't done things the easy way in the days of John Paul Jones, why would now be any different?

"How we lookin' back there, Skates?" Harm called through the radio for his RIO.

"Weather system's mostly offshore, we're feet dry. Don't worry about it." Skates answered confidently.

"And what about when we're headed home later?" Harm asked, mostly just trying to pass the time at this point.

"Storm system's moving fast, it'll create some swells, but it won't be in our flight path back to the carrier." Skates smiled to herself. "One stormy night dip in the ocean enough for your career, CAG?"

"More than enough." Harm let out a sarcastic laugh as they F-14 continued boring its holes in the sky. Priest had been a little more cautious since his Article 32, it was just something Harm had noticed from time to time when the younger pilot was flying his wing. Harm recognized this little psychosis, it was something that he'd seen in Skates when he'd done that first tour with her on the Henry. Priest wasn't taking the chances, he usually took or pushing the envelope the way he did. Harm thought of him like a good young pitcher you knew he could control a 101 mile an hour fastball but right now was leaning on his change-up. It was safe, it didn't ruffle feathers and it was perfectly fine for 99 percent of the aviators that the Navy had commissioned. But Lieutenant Commander Mario Fanelli had never flown that way and Harm knew that because he and Priest were cut from the same material, and Captain Harmon Rabb had never flown that way either.

"We're approaching point Bravo." Skates announced and Harm's eyes narrowed a bit. They were told to expect some resistance here. Troop support missions normally kept them pretty close to the deck, which left them open to machine gun fire from the ground, it also made them more susceptible to Stinger attacks and caused them to burn a lot of fuel. Truth be told, the cruise back to San Diego was always his least favourite part of being back out in what Tom Boone had called "the Real Navy". He didn't look forward to writing quals schedules and getting all of his F-14 pilots qualified on the Hornets but he was going to have to do that. "We're driving her kind of hard, Harm, you're at 650 knots."

"You want me to bring her back?" Harm eased up on the throttle.

"Troop support mission, remember?" Skates gave him a little back chat. "Bring her down to 400."

"In a hurry to get home, CAG?" Priest chirped in over the radio. "You like the food in the galley that much?"

"It's veggie lasagna night, Priest." Harm laughed and looked over his right shoulder where he saw his wingman's plane.

"Well Lord save us all from the Mess Chief then, sir." Priest joked.

"Approaching point Charlie, sir." Skates reminded him from the backseat.

"Alright, boys and girls, let's commence our run." Harm dropped his bird to Angels 10 and led the squad into the the mountainous terrain. At this height, it was like being glued to the deck. In this terrain, a bad pilot could find himself and his bird decorating the side of a mountain real quick.

That was when the machine gun fire started from the ground below. The squad split up so that they presented less of a target. Priest stayed glued to Harm's wing as the bullet's from the ground now had to chase multiple targets. "I'm starting to get flashbacks to nights over Belgrade." Priest echoed through the radio and Harm couldn't help but shake his head.

"Priest, watch out for this ridge, we're likely to catch a little more fire as we dip over the other side of it." Harm advised as the two Tomcats pulled up a little to adjust to the height of the ridge. "Flak incoming!" Harm called as more streaks of light lit up the night sky all around them. "How far are we from the end of the run, Skates?"

"Waterloo yellow in seven minutes, Harm." Skates advised.

"It's gonna be less fun coming back through, Harm." Priest told him over the radio.

"Well, I guessed that." Harm fired back sarcastically. They cleared the ridge completely and Harm watched Priest go into a barrel roll and dive down toward the first ground target. In the middle of the roll, a burst of gunfire came up and cracked a part of Priest's wind canopy, sending some of the glass flying into the cockpit.

"Oh shit, not again!" Demon exclaimed through the radio.

"Priest, you okay?" Harm questioned, his concern evident.

Priest groaned. "Clipped by a little flak, CAG, nothing to worry about, just popped a piece of my canopy." Only Priest and Demon knew however that just like their last tour in country, where Priest had earned his DFC, a few pieces of glass had caught him in the face.

"Don't be a hero, head back home if you're hurt." Harm coached.

"Nah." Priest waved him off. "I've got a missile lock on a ground target, permission to weapons free, CAG?"

"Take the shot if you've got it, Priest." Harm ordered and Priest launched a JDAM at the ground target, an event that was followed by an explosion which lit up the Afghan sky. "Nice shooting, Priest."

"Thanks, CAG." Priest exhaled hard and shook his head.

"Priest, watch it! Stinger inbound!" Harm called and he watched as the young pilot hit a seven G turn to break wide of the missile's path but as he did, he found himself in the middle of more machine gun fire. Harm saw a few bullet's strike his port side wing. "Priest, this is no longer a suggestion, it's an order. You're flying a wounded bird, take her back home!"

"Aye, sir." The young aviator sounded resigned but her turned for home.

"Ranger? You think you can take the squad, I'm gonna fly Priest's wing till he gets back home." Harm radioed to Commander Richards.

"I've got it CAG, you take Priest on home." Ranger replied steadily.

"Alright, buck it back once you get your Waterloo call." Harm broke off and caught up to his usual wingman.

"Will do, CAG." Ranger acknowledged the order and continued on with the squad.

"Demon, how do things look over there?" Harm talked to Priest's RIO.

"Bullets tore up the wing a bit but I think we'll make her back home just fine, CAG." Demon answered earnestly.

"Alright, I'll ride your wing until we get back to the carrier." Harm tried to comfort the young aviator as the two Tomcats bored through the starlit sky.

1739 ZULU

PAULINE'S BRIDAL BOUTIQUE

GEORGETOWN

It had been nice of Beverley Ross to make Mac a bridesmaid for her wedding to the Admiral. They hadn't known each other all that long but Mac had developed a real connection as a friend with the red headed Presbyterian Minister. She liked to joke that when she and Harriet went out with Bev they tended to earn stares from men with a fetish for Neapolitan Ice Cream. Bev's matron of honour was going to be her little sister Anna, Mac and the choir leader from Beverley's congregation would serve as the the other bridesmaids. Mac had learned at lunch that AJ had decided on Harm as his best man, Bud and his protege Lieutenant Sherkson would serve as the other groomsmen.

"I'd like to thank the two of you for helping me with the wedding." Bev went through the racks. "God knows, if I'd left it up to Anna and my mother to help me I'd have to have AJ give me some weapons training, so I wouldn't waste bullets."

Mac and Harriet shared a laugh. "I'm sure I speak for the Colonel too when I say that we love to help, ma'am."

"Harriet Roberts." Beverley shook her head. "You are out here helping me pick out my wedding dress and my bridesmaids dresses. You can at least call me Beverley."

"It won't take, Bev." Mac chuckled. "I've been trying to get her to call me Mac when we're outside of work for a few years, she might have down it once."

"I think it's been more than that, ma'am." Harriet protested but Mac just shook her head.

"You should be in good hands, Beverley, Harriet actually had decent bridesmaid dresses at her wedding." Mac commented. "She's got this wedding thing down to a science."

"Well, I supposed this is my way of thanking her for helping AJ navigate the world of colour schemes." Beverley laughed heartily as she laid a few different dresses across Harriet's arms.

"Oh no, ma'am, I didn't..."Harriet began to protest but Bev's raised hand silenced her.

"Yes, you did and thank you." Beverley put a hand on Harriet's shoulder. "I know AJ helped too but you actually made his contributions constructive instead of token. He's lucky, he's knows what his groomsmen are wearing."

"Yeah, Bud in dress whites." Harriet licked her lips subconsciously, causing Mac and Beverley to laugh. "The Captain, too."

Mac let her thoughts wander for a second to Harm. His dress whites, his gold wings, his Captain's stripes and line officer's star. He'd be the prize trophy of the single men at the reception, every single woman would eye him down, his dance card would be full from the first until the last song. He'd save one for her of course, they always danced at least one together at these sorts of functions. Then her thoughts darted to the other man in her life. Nate would be there of course, likely sitting proudly in the front row with the rest of Bev's family. His Dress Blues, almost midnight in their tone. The white cover affixed almost perfectly atop his head and a mountain of medals on his chest, his white gloves stretched crisply over his hands.

"Go somewhere, Mac?" Beverley seemed to question somewhat tongue-in-cheek

"Just...uh...thinking about dress uniforms." Mac stammered a little as she returned to her looking through the options for more bridesmaids gowns.

"And a certain Marine Lieutenant Colonel?" Harriet chanced with a knowing smile on her face.

"Yes, if you must know." Mac blushed a delicate pink.

"Thinking of enlisting me help for a little shindig of your own in the near future, ma'am?" Harriet caught Mac's eye for a second.

"We've talked about it...kind of." Mac tried to evade the question. "You know, commitment in kind of general terms."

"Seems to be my brother's calling card." Beverley commented almost absently.

"What was that, ma'am?" Harriet peered over that rack. Mac extended her own concerned look.

"It's nothing, it's..."Beverley shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I couldn't ask for a better sibling. Nathan is fiercely loyal, loving with the family and moral to the point of sanctimony sometimes. But ever since his divorce, he's become gun-shy."

"Gun-shy?" Mac treaded carefully.

"Commitment in general terms." Beverley quoted. "If it was commitment in specifics, getting married or getting engaged, or moving in together, you'd know about it."

"Well, since you know...with Stephen..."Mac was careful not to say too much and Bev gave an understanding nod that indicated she wanted her to continue. "We really have moved in together, it happened so subtly that I didn't even notice it, it just kind of became a part of my life. Rolling over in the morning and finding him there. It's actually been kind of funny the last few weeks, looking down the length of the bed and finding that left leg propped up on that collection of pillows."

Harriet gave her friend a look that was both knowing and concerned. She could see that Mac was in love, at least she was exhibiting all the classic signs of it but at the same time, it wasn't like she was energized or enthused about it, almost like she'd simply accepted it. Maybe she was reading too far into one explanation, it was just one snippet of a nine month relationship that was obviously as complicated and layered as just about any relationship. She loved him, she was probably even in love with him but was it what Mac wanted? Would it make her happy?

1819 ZULU

SOMEWHERE OVER AFGHANISTAN...

"Demon, how are things goin' over there?" Harm questioned through the radio.

"You don't trust me to answer questions, CAG?" Priest fired back.

"Dee?" Harm ignored Priest's question

"We're doing fine, CAG." Demon answered with less enthusiasm. Harm eyed his wingman's plane suspiciously

"Skates, what's they lay of the land?" Harm checked the mirror to observe Skates' face.

"Two minutes until we leave Afghani air space, approximately. fifteen minutes to feet wet, maybe another ten to the carrier." Skates answered.

"Shit." Harm cursed. "We're gonna have to refuel."

"Priest, you think you can get through the refuel without problems?" Harm shifted his gaze sideways again.

"Yeah, CAG, no issues here." Priest's struggled to keep his voice even and not raise the concerns of his CAG. Priest closed his radio channel for a few seconds.

"Are you actually okay, Mario?" Demon's eyes met Priest's in the mirror. The two of them had gone through flight school together, Demon had been his backseater even then. He'd been there when Priest had earned his first DFC in a similar situation and it wasn't something that he'd enjoyed then or wanted to repeat now.

"Yeah, Dee, I've got this." Priest summoned as much steel into his voice as he could muster. He opened the radio channel again.

"Texaco, this is Sea Monster 2-4-6 and Sea Monster 2-2-8, requesting a top up." Harm called the in-flight refuel just as they exited Afghan air space.

"This is Texaco, 2-4-6, the pump is open whenever you're ready." The in-flight refuel pilot sent back over the radio and Harm manoeuvred his bird up to the pump. The refuel started and Harm took on just enough to safely get back to the ship before breaking off and holding his flight pattern so that he could keep an eye on Priest during this refuel.

Priest pulled up to the pump. Demon held his breath, he knew that flying with only one eye would diminish Priest's depth perception. He said a silent prayer in the backseat that he could get them refueled and back down on to the deck. When he saw the nozzle catch the net for the refuel, he let out a deep breath. "Take on as much as you can, Mario." Demon advised from the backseat.

"Texaco, this is Sea Monster 2-2-8, how much have you got left to give?" Priest tried to open the affected eye as much as possible to check on the progress of the refuel.

"Enough to get you safely to the deck, 2-2-8, maybe with one wave-off to spare if you need it." The in-flight refuel pilot responded. "There's another gas station on the way up in a few minutes to take care of the rest of the squad, 2-2-8, don't worry."

Priest gulped and nodded to himself. There was at least that. He wouldn't screw over the rest of the squad by taking on as much as he could. He began to feel a little rattle in the port side of the bird. "Priest breaking off." He radioed in and he brought the nozzle back in. The rattle got a little worse. "Demon, what the hell is going on over there?"

"I don't know, I think we're getting a little guff from the port side engine." Demon theorized as he examined his instrument panel.

"What's going on, Priest?" Harm checked in again with the refueling done.

"We're getting a little shake from the port side, CAG." Priest responded, honestly for the first time in the last half hour. Just as he finished the last radio call, a spark caught the engine and the port side engine went into flames.

"Port side engine's gone, Priest! Shut it down! Shut it down!" Demon called from the backseat. Priest shut down the port side engine and the flames quelled a little bit.

"Priest, climb to Angels 30, the air's colder, there's less oxygen to feed the fire and you'll burn less fuel." Harm advised and climbed alongside his wingman. "Give me a straight up or down call right now, you two, and I want it from both of you, can you make it back safely?"

"Yes, sir." Priest answered without question. Demon caught his eye from the backseat. "Dee?"

"Dee?" Harm called over the radio. "Dee, can he even see?"

"Sir, I stand behind my driver. We can make it back to the deck." Demon answered with strong conviction overriding the lump in his throat.

"Alright." Harm nodded.

"Sea Monster 2-4-6 and 2-2-8, you are in the pattern." The Air Boss called from the pri-fly tower. "Call the ball."

"You take it first, CAG." Priest encouraged. "I'll cover your six." Harm's instinct was to order Priest in first but with a failing port side engine, he didn't want to try his luck.

"See you on the deck." Harm broke off and headed for the deck. He called the ball and brought her in just about picture perfect catching the three wire. Skates headed for the ready room and Harm headed for the LSO station to watch Priest come in.

"Sea Monster 2-2-8, this is the LSO, call the ball." The LSO called from the platform.

"Roger, ball 3.6." Priest communicated with the tower.

"Bring her on in, 2-2-8." The LSO grumbled and he stood there with Harm watching the plane come in. Up in the bird, Priest wasn't sure he had the luck to make his second one eyed night landing on a pitching carrier deck. "You're a little low, 2-2-8, show me some attitude." The LSO coached as the plane neared the deck. Priest got the order and amped up the power and brought the plane up.

"You're a little high, Priest." Demon coached from the backseat.

"You're over the glideslope." The LSO coached. "Rein her on in." Priest eased off the throttle. "Okay, a little power, power power." Priest punched the throttle a little at the end and snagged the one wire. The F-14 was moved out of the pattern and Harm watched as Priest climbed down out of the cockpit with shards of glass dug in around his eye.

"Commander Fanelli, on my six, mister. We're headed for sick bay." Harm pointed at the aviator and directed him to the hatch.

1946 ZULU

FAHRENHEIT RESTAURANT

GEORGETOWN

The afternoon had been filled with the necessary fretting over the dresses and flowers, details that Beverley had wanted to make sure were exact. She was doing everything she could to avoid service rivalries at the wedding, so no blues that were darker than a certain shade and no greens that were darker than a certain shade. With a wedding in late October, she was trying to gear the colour scheme toward fall colours and earth tones. Harriet had been forced to leave after the florist so that she would be back in Rosslyn in time to pick up Little AJ from pre-school. So, Beverley and Mac stopped into a restaurant in Georgetown for a little coffee and some dessert.

"So, what was my darling brother up to when you checked in on him at work earlier?" Beverley asked as she folded the napkin in her lap. Mac looked stunned, she couldn't remember saying that she'd stopped in at Nate's office. "Oh come now, Sarah, you didn't think Nathan was the only one who could read body language did you?"

"But how did you?" Mac inquired with a puzzled expression.

"Just consider it a Ross equivalent of that neat little trick you do with time." Beverley smiled wisely. "So, what was he up to?"

"Well, I ran into Nicole as I was heading toward his office." Mac remembered back to earlier in the day. "Is she coming to the wedding?"

"I've gotten to know her over the years and I do like her." Beverley nodded. "Yes, she'll be there."

"Anyway, Lily had just stepped out of Nate's inner office when I got there and he was giving an interview to CNN." Mac explained. "He said that he was booked from morning to night today and he's headed to South Carolina tomorrow to stump for Bartlet."

"Always the overachiever." Beverley joked. "It's always been a bit of an experience for me to watch how my siblings adjusted. My mom raised the older kids, Preston, Nathan and me. Preston and I largely grew up without our father. Pres was 8 when dad did his first tour in Vietnam, I was four and mom was pregnant with Nathan. By the time the war ended, Preston had been accepted to the Academy, I was 14 and Nathan was ten. Preston grew up idolizing dad and so did I to an extent because we got the legends about him from mom or our uncles or Marines that dad served with. We grew up with the legend. But Nathan went through his teenage years with dad and it's kind of amazed me to see how he's almost turned into him."

"He and the General are that much alike?" Mac questioned, curious about the Minister's analysis.

"It's like quicksand, you see it all the time, the more you fight it, the deeper you sink." Beverley explained. "Nathan fought dad on everything, for years. But in terms of personality, they're eerily similar

Mac wondered if it was habitual. If it was predestined for boys to end up like their fathers. According to those who'd known Harm Sr. when he was alive, he and Harm were so similar that one could be mistaken for the other quite easily. Maybe Beverley was right and it really was like quicksand. Some men wanted to end up like their fathers, they idolized them. Some men fought to not end up like dad and as a result, the quicksand dragged them under anyway. She wondered if it was true for mothers too. It appeared to be true for Beverley and Eileen Ross, their kind nature and skill for listening and advising had led one to psychiatry and the other to the clergy.

"I only met Francesca once, when I went with AJ to Italy on an inspection tour and I've met his sister Adelle." Beverley explained. "So, I'm not sure if AJ fits my little theory about fathers and sons and those particular ties that bind generations together, or if it's just true in my family."

"The Admiral is a good man." Mac stated matter-of-factly. "A good man, a good officer and a man of incredible wisdom who has learned a lot from the mistakes and successes he's had in his life. A lot of women would rightly be envious of you."

"Thank you, Mac." Beverley couldn't help but smile.

"I'm not sure if that comes with age or not. Younger men seem to have more stubbornness, less flexibility in who they are." Mac shook her head. "Maybe it's because they're still trying to figure out who they are. It makes them interesting, you know, mysterious."

"Eventually, the mystery becomes insecurity." Beverley commented. "But it's fun while it's mystery."

2055 ZULU

BISHOP DENIS J. O'CONNELL HIGH SCHOOL

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

William Patrick Sean Ross looked every bit the Ross that his uncle or father did. Newly minted at 15 years old, a sophomore and a starting Wide Receiver for the O'Connell Knights. He was tall and lanky, he hadn't filled out yet. But he stood a solid six-foot-one and a half, with the same chestnut mop of hair that a lot of the men in his family had. The difference was that he'd taken his mother's faith. She'd after all been born Lillian Mary Flanagan. His mother had gotten pregnant at 17, barely finishing high school before giving birth. When he was finally out of diapers, his father had gone to the police academy and his mother had gone back to community college. Billy had spent most of his nights between the ages of four and eight being babysat by his uncle Nate and on random nights his co-worker Nicole DiPiccio.

Now, his uncle Nate stood off to the sidelines of the practice field waiting for him to come running off. "Coach give you a run today?" Nate asked as Billy came jogging over.

"Looks like you could probably use it, too." Billy pointed down at his uncle's cast. "Mom send you to come get me?"

"Nah, she knew I'd be in the neighbourhood, I had a meeting at the Pentagon. I figured I could come on out here and talk to you." Nate gave Billy a pat on the back and directed him to the car. "How was practice?"

"Pretty standard." Billy slid into the backseat next to his uncle and the driver moved the car forward. "We've got our first game of the season against Pope Paul next week, those are always big games."

"They seem to be integrating you into the new school pretty well." Nate laughed. "Especially since you went to Archbishop Carroll last year."

"They still rip on me once in a while but when you've got the best quarterback in the conference and I'm the only guy who can run the forty in time enough to catch one of his passes, you lay off for practicality sake, I think." Billy ran a hand through his hair.

"Listen...uh....I don't quite know how to broach this subject but." Nate paused. "What your dad to your mom, you know that's not acceptable behaviour, right?"

"Yeah, I know." Billy hung his head. "That's why I took a swing at my dad when he did that. If I know it's not okay, he should have known."

"Yes, he should have." Nate nodded his head.

"You would have known better." Billy looked his uncle in the eye. "You're better than my old man."

"What do you want me to say to that, Billy?" Nate shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing, I suppose." Billy answered. "But since it happened, we've lived at your place, mom's got a job, Simon and Owen are in school and no one's shouting at anyone when we come home at night. What I don't understand is he was your damn brother, why did mom come to you?"

"I don't know." Nate answered honestly.

"Is it true that mom met you and dad at the same time?" Billy looked over his left shoulder at his uncle.

"Yeah." Nate gave a smile. "She was underage at a bar we went to one night. Your dad was underage too, so we didn't make any noise about it. Your dad had eyes for her from the start."

"Why couldn't she have picked you?" Billy shook his head. "She'd have been happier."

Nate got a little weary of this talk and decided to change topics. "Your mother tells me you want to go to Annapolis."

"Yeah, after all, it's what Grandpa says our family does, right?" Billy looked out the window. "Besides, you're my hero, uncle Nate and you were a Marine."

"I didn't go to the Academy." Nate answered. "I got my commission through NROTC."

"I can play football at the Academy." Billy answered.

"Your mom told me that Ohio State, Florida and Penn all tried to recruit you too, you could play football there." Nate responded.

"She just doesn't want me to join the Marines and get killed." Billy stated bluntly, taking a swig from his water bottle. "You were wounded in combat twice and earlier this year on a Georgetown street, it's not safe anywhere."

"You're always going to be her little boy." Nate answered." But you should do what you want to do."

"Will you talk to her?" Billy gave his uncle a pleading look and Nate nodded.

1951 ZULU

USS NIMITZ

SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN...

Harm stood there in sick bay as Lieutenant Commander D'Amigo examined Priest's eye. She pulled the pieces out while maintaining her professional bearing and preventing herself from going to pieces over her boyfriend's antics earlier in his plane. She replaced each shard of glass with a zipper of stitches in his face, putting every last bit of passive aggressive anger she felt into the retrieval of each strand of thread.

"Do you realize how many charges I could have you brought up on?" Harm dressed down the young aviator as he sat on the edge of the examination rack. "You lied to me, you put your RIO in a position where he had to lie to me, you could have killed the flight crew on the deck, the guys in the gas station, your RIO and yourself. The Navy didn't give you a fucking commission so you could behave like an amped up pubescent!" Harm's face getting redder and redder as he got closer to the young aviator. "What you did was not only damn stupid, it was damn dangerous." He paused and reflected on a time when Admiral Chegwidden had given him a similar dressing down over a few newly constructed holes in the ceiling of Admiral Morris' courtroom.

"No excuse, sir. ....Ow!" Priest winced as another stitch was pulled tight over his orbital bone.

"I ought to put your ass up in front of a goddamn FENAB for that stunt!" Harm was shouting, his nostrils flaring. "You got a good goddamn reason why I shouldn't?"

"None, sir." Priest felt a lump the size of a golf ball forming in his throat.

"Well I have one." Harm was about to create some slack on the leash. "Ever since that damn Article 32 you've been flying scared. You're no goddamn good to me that way. I can't let his go unpunished, so here's what I'm going to do. You're grounded, you've got the last set of flight quals before we dock in San Diego at the end of the cruise. Keeping you out of the air should help clear your head. Second, when we do our port call in Sydney on the way home, you're taking the mid-watch. My apologies to Lieutenant Commander D'Amigo for any inconvenience this causes her. Certainly she didn't do anything wrong."

"But nothing will go on his record, sir?" She questioned without looking over her shoulder at Harm.

"That's right." Harm nodded.

"Than it's a damn sight better than he deserves right now." She pulled another stitch causing him to wince again. Harm disappeared through the hatch of sick bay and headed for the ready room. Back in sick bay, D'Amigo was laying into Priest. "After how good he's been with you...with us, you had to go and pull a damn stunt like this?"

"I didn't think it was that bad." Priest countered.

"No, you didn't think." She spat venomously. "You didn't think about all that stuff the CAG talk about. You didn't think about the flight crew on the deck, or the guys in the tanker, or Dee...or....or me." She turned her eyes from him.

"I'm sorry." He tried to get her to look at him. "You deserved better than that."

"You can't just think about yourself when you're up there, not any more." She tried to explain, her emotions finally catching her. "You affect people now."

"I know." He nodded.

Harm opened the hatch to the ready room and found the Skipper standing with the Black Aces waiting for him. "Attention to orders!" The Skipper called. "For his actions in rescuing a United States Senator in enemy territory as well as coming to the aid of the Marine SAR team originally sent out to find him, for having the good sense to repair a crippled helo and with no recorded flight hours on a CH-53, deliver the aforementioned Senator and Marines from hostile enemy fire, the Secretary of the Navy has seen fit to award the Navy Cross to Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. Captain Rabb's actions are in the finest traditions of the Naval service and reflect great credit on himself, Naval aviation and the United States Navy." The Skipper pinned the Navy cross the Harm's flight suit. "Congratulations, CAG."

"Thank you, Skipper." Harm shook the CAG's hand.

"Now, since your mother is not aboard ship, Commander Hawkes will do the honours. Skates?" Karma motioned Skates forward.

"Well, here's a new one for the scrapbook." Harm whispered and Skates smiled as she got up on tip toe to kiss him on the cheek. When she finished the Black Aces cheered raucously and Harm almost blushed he was smiling so hard.

"What are you going to do next, CAG? Walk on water?" Demon joked.

"Maybe if we have too many beers at King's Cross in Sydney." Harm replied, a grin firmly in place.


	17. My Hometown

_A/N: I've had some reviewers tell me that I have to start writing "Bones" FF. I don't really know anything about that series except for who the stars are. So, in honour of our "Bones" fans"_

_Emily Deschanel as Michelle Fournier_

The cruise was, for all intents and purposes done. The USS Nimitz was about an hour or so out from her home port at NAS North Island. They'd finished carrier qualification runs at 0700 that morning with Priest completing his last trap. Harm stood on the bridge with the Skipper as San Diego, Coronado and La Jolla grew to prominence on the horizon. "You know, I'm gonna miss you." Karma stared straight ahead.

"Commanding Officers really have to stop saying that to me at the end of cruises." Harm laughed to himself. "Am I going somewhere?"

"Rumour is that NAVAIRLANT was so impressed with the job you did hear that they put in for you." Karma reached for a cigar inside his breast pocket. "They've got a new Skipper on board the Patrick Henry, a Captain Loftness. They want to give him an experienced CAG and he requested you personally."

"Captain Loftness, Skipper?" Harm questioned wearily. He remembered back to his first meeting with the former Air Boss on the Henry.

"Yeah." Karma nodded. "I'll put in to keep you of course, but either way, it's gonna be a few months before you're back on sea duty, CAG."

"Been a fun few months, Skipper. I can say without equivocation that this has been my favourite sea duty." Harm smiled. "My folks are having a small get together at their house in La Jolla tomorrow night. It's a fundraiser for something that my mom's running through the gallery. I was told to invite a few people."

"Still taking order from mommy, CAG?" Karma teased fraternally. "I'll give it some good long thought. Don't be surprised if I do show my face."

"Good to hear, Skipper." Harm nodded.

"Now as my last official act of our partnership. Captain Rabb, go grab your stuff from your underway cabin, you're dismissed." The Skipper fixed a salute and Harm returned it in kind.

"Aye aye, sir." Harm grinned and headed off the bridge. There was always something great about coming home. The men on the ship who had wives and families, it was obvious what was great about it for them. Harm figured that for the rest of them, it was just about putting an end to all the rambling. Having a place to hang your hat at the end of the night. Harm began to pack his stuff into a sea bag. His uniforms were kept neatly in his foot locker. He tossed his helmet and flight suit in there with them. He took a few seconds to stare at some pictures from the cruise. There was one of him and Bud at the cantina during liberty call in Manila. There was one of him, Skates and Priest on flight deck. The last one was of him and Kate Pike during their port call in Sydney on the way home.

"I like my copy, too." He heard the familiar voice say behind him.

"It's a nice memory." Harm turned to face her as he stuck the photos in his footlocker.

"That's all they are, right?" Kate stood in the hatch.

"Yeah." Harm nodded. "Doesn't mean you stop making them. My folks are having a dinner party for some people out at their house tomorrow night, Skipper will probably be there, why don't you come on out?"

"That's very sweet, Harm." Kate moved into the cabin. "And I might consider it, but I've got orders for the NATO Force JAG's office in London It doesn't start tomorrow but I'd like to get out there and get settled. Besides, I told you once that the last thing you need is another woman complicating your life."

"In order for you to be another, there would have to be a woman complicating my life." Harm countered.

"Mac will always be there Harm, whether she physically is or not. This time she's not engaged, you don't have to play Sir Galahad, always doing the right thing. Be Lancelot for once, make Mac your Guinevere." Kate smiled and dropped a hand on to Harm's chest. Harm leaned in and lightly brushed her lips with his. "Goodbye, Harmon Rabb."

"Goodbye, Kate." Harm answered and Kate ducked back out the hatch of the cabin. Harm finished packing his things and closed the hatch to his underway cabin for what he figured would be the last time. VF-141, Harm and his Black Aces were reassigned to NAS North Island once the ship docked. He stared at the grey hatch for a few seconds before heading aft toward the stairs. He ran into Bud Roberts who was also headed for the gangplank. "Bud, I'm glad I caught you." Harm put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Listen, my mom and Frank are having a dinner party of sorts at their place in La Jolla tomorrow night, why don't you come on out and keep me company?"

"Love to, sir." Bud said with a quick smile. "But I got orders from Admiral Chegwidden this morning to return to JAG Headquarters by Friday and I'd really like to get home to see Harriet and Little AJ. So, I'm actually dashing across the base at North Island to catch a transport to Pax River."

Harm figured that this might be Bud's answer so he merely smiled fondly and gave Bud a pat on the shoulder. "Give Harriet and my godson a big hug for me, would you?"

"Be my pleasure, sir." Bud smiled. The hatch opened for the gangplank and sailors began to check in with the watch officer before heading off. Some were on liberty call and had to come back later that night. Others, like those in the Air Wing, were reassigned to North Island and would be leaving for a good long while. Harm saluted the Naval Ensign before walking down the plank to the pier below. Harm walked the pier, eventually catching the eyes of Lieutenant Commanders Fanelli and D'Amigo.

"How are you two?" Harm greeted them with a smile.

"Good, sir." Priest answered with his own take on the Flyboy grin. "Sir, I just wanted to apolo..."

"Not necessary." Harm stopped him. "You did it once, and I don't think you'll do it again. You want to make sure you make up for it, just treat this girl right." Harm indicated the woman on Priest's immediate right."

"Will do, sir." Priest gave Harm a respectful nod.

"And if you two feel up to it tomorrow, why don't you come on out to La Jolla for a little dinner party being held at my parents' place." Harm invited. "Just a casual thing with some non-Galley food."

"I think we can arrange that, sir." This time Commander D'Amigo answered.

"Good, I'll expect the two of you." Harm nodded, the two junior officers saluted and watched him head on down the pier. It was a sunny late October day in San Diego. Ideal golfing weather, Harm thought to himself as he walked the pier. Not that he expected to be swinging a club any time soon. As Harm walked the pier until he came across the last familiar form that he would see on the pier, his RIO, Skates sitting on her closed footlocker staring down at an unfolded piece of paper. "Skates, what's up?" Harm crouched next to her.

"Oh, sir." Skates tried to square herself up.

"It's Harm, we're in uniform but not on the ship any more." Harm pointed out. "What's with the letter?"

"It's my guy, at least he was my guy." Skates sniffled. "Less than a week before we get into port, he sends me this letter. Talks about how much I love flying and how this can't just be a temporary thing. I told him I didn't put in for this duty, NAVCENT called you and cut orders before you even had the chance to get a word in. I didn't want sea duty, I wanted to hang around stateside."

"Any man willing to give up on you so easily, Skates, doesn't deserve you." Harm wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, I've got an idea, why don't you come out to DC with me for next weekend. Admiral Chegwidden's getting married, promises to be a lot of single male Marines and Sailors at this wedding. They'll also probably have the best caterer in DC, some pretty good music and it promises to be a real good time."

"Commander Pike turn you down, sir?" Skates was feeling a little bolder, a smile returning slowly to her face.

"Skates, how did you..." Harm searched for an answer but just shook his head.

"I fly with you remember, sir?" Skates grinned. "I know your swaggers."

"Well, think about the wedding but come to this little dinner party my folks are throwing out in La Jolla tomorrow night." Harm jostled her. "We've gotta start weaning you off galley food."

"Aye aye, sir." Skates replied with a smile.

0109 ZULU

BARTLET FAMILY FARM

OUTISIDE MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE

It was a working weekend and a romantic weekend. Or at least it was supposed to be. It was a campaign trip to New Hampshire where Nate was supposed to stump for Governor Bartlet but it was also supposed to be a weekend where they could have some moments together away from the hustle and clatter of Washington. The down side was that they wouldn't be going up or returning or alone. They were taking Sam up with them from National to Logan and then picking up Chloe on Sunday evening and bringing her back to Washington for the Admiral's wedding the next weekend. They'd gotten off the shuttle early that evening, rented a car from Hertz and started their drive up to New Hampshire.

Sam and Nate argued all the way out to the car about which of them was going to drive but Sam was overruled when Nate brought a road trip to Atlantic City from their time in Princeton when Sam got the car lost and they ended up in Asbury Park. So, Nate undertook the drive up Interstate 93 to Manchester using a map they picked up from the airport gift shop at Logan and some directions that Josh Lyman had emailed to Sam earlier in the day. It was just after 2000 hours local when the rental car had pulled up to the farm house in Manchester.

"Welcome to New Hampshire." Leo called as he walked down from the house.

"Finding New Hampshire wasn't the problem, it was finding this place." Nate groaned as he walked up and shook Leo's hand.

"Don't get the Governor started on that, he'll have to tell you all about the Abenaki Indians." Leo laughed. "Sam, Sarah, nice to see you again." Mac smiled and nodded at Leo. The Governor's staff, would normally call her 'Mac', they were pretty good about it. But Leo, Jed and Abbey would all call her Sarah. Actually, Leo would alternate. Most of the time he would call her Sarah but he wasn't above calling her Colonel MacKenzie when he meant to subtly communicate to her the seriousness of a situation. Once she discovered that he still had an Air Force reservist rank of Colonel, she would often return the statement, referring to him as Colonel McGarry. "I think Abbey wants to see the two of you out back. Senator, will you come with me?" Leo headed toward the front door with Nate striding alongside.

"So, what's going on, Leo?" Nate stepped through the front door first.

"Just wait." Leo stalled as the two men met up with Jed and Josh in the den off the entry way. Leo closed the doors to the den behind the two of them. "We're having a problem with the campaign."

"What's up?" Nate looked up at Leo and then over to Josh.

"Well, the sentiment seems to be the uniform gap." Josh treaded lightly into the conversation. "On economics, on social policy, on those issues we beat Hoynes because people like what you have to say, Governor." Josh stood behind a chair and leaned on his elbows on the top of the chair's back. "But on foreign policy we have a small problem."

"What are you talking about, Josh?" Jed looked over his right shoulder at his campaign aide.

"Basically, you use the right words but you lack the presence." Leo cut in, knowing his relationship with Jed to be less tenuous than Josh's at this point.

"I lack the presence?" Jed questioned. "What does that even mean."

"I think I can take this one." Nate weighed in. "They're saying that polling suggests that you don't connect on foreign policy because you have no experience with the uniform."

"I gathered that from the uniform gap reference." Jed got up out of his chair and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You're telling me that Americans don't think a Governor can speak intelligently about foreign affairs because I didn't serve in the military or sit through endless meetings with Generals on Capitol Hill?"

Josh looked to Leo to continue knowing what had to be said next. Leo was about to step in but both Bartlet aides watched as the six-foot-three Senator got up out of his chair. "It's not about that, it's about a kind of comfort with the culture. Washington is renowned for producing politicians, in both parties, with no military experience but who can talk a big game and speak Pentagon to Veterans Groups. You don't give them that kind of presence, that kind of quiet comfort that even though you never served you're ready for the nuclear launch codes."

"And who does?" Jed fired back, more than a little offended by his new friend's assertions.

"According to our polling, him." Josh spoke before thinking and quietly winced inside. Silence hung heavy in the air as Jed turned away toward the fireplace.

"So, what do we do, Leo?" The Governor leaned on the mantle and looked to his long time friend.

"We try to make you comfortable with it." Leo answered somewhat stoically.

"You don't think surrounding me with uniforms, or politicians that wore uniforms once like the two of you is just going to remind everyone that I never wore one?" Jed moved toward Leo.

"There's that possibility." Josh stepped in, looking to redeem himself. "But it also says that the fears people have are misplaced. It says, look at these two men. A Vietnam vet, a combat pilot and a Desert Storm veteran and a Silver Star winner, both of them have no problem seeing Jed Bartlet as President, with or without the uniform."

"We start Bartlet Military College bright and early tomorrow morning though." Leo jumped in. "The Senator will run you through an hour on the military and then I'll join the two of you to after breakfast for an hour on foreign affairs. We've got the New Hampshire VFW on Sunday afternoon at Dartmouth, I want us to be somewhat ready for it."

"Bright and early tomorrow?" Nate folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll have my sweats and be hear by 0545."

"0545?" Jed questioned in disbelief. "On a Saturday."

"Jed, this weekend, Parris Island is gonna come to you." Leo smirked.

0303 ZULU

BURNETT RESIDENCE

LA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA

Watching him walk up the driveway was surreal. So tall, so strong, the same smile, the same gait, the same mustache as had been unfamiliar to her for nearly thirty-five years. She was expecting Harm, her little Harm. But when she blinked, she saw Harmon. The mustached taking her memory back to faded photographs and the warm embraces of days now condemned to a far corner of her memory. "Harm." She smiled as he finished walking around the side of the house out to the back where she and Frank were relaxing and enjoying the view. "When did you grow that?" She indicated his upper lip.

"Out there." Harm nodded toward the ocean waves. "It was liberating. The whole experience, but indulging in a little facial hair for the first time since the Academy was also fun." Trish smiled as she watched him stand there. His khaki uniform on in place of his summer whites, reflecting the change in season. Trish caught the slightest gleam off the new ribbon on his chest.

"You got a Navy Cross?" She got out of her chair and walked over to her son. "What crazy, grey hair inducing thing did you do to win that?"

"Classified." Harm joked with an accompanying flyboy grin that had always proven so able at disarming every woman in the world except his mother. Trish Burnett just knew her son too well.

"How are you, Harm?" Frank walked over and shook his stepson's hand.

"Good, Frank." Harm replied with a firm nod. "It was kind of nice to step back out into the spray."

"So, now that you're permanently stationed out in San Diego, you're going to have to find a place to live." Trish re-took her seat at the patio table. She watched Harm's eyes dart around the backyard and his expression sink. "Well, you're the Air Wing Commander for the Nimitz now, aren't you?"

"I'm waiting on a call from COMNAVAIRPAC about that one." Harm answered as he took a seat. "Normally, I'd be attached to the Nimitz as the CAG until a promotions board saw fit to promote me. But the Skipper heard some scuttlebutt last night about them putting a new man on the bridge of the Patrick Henry out in Norfolk and he said that the word was that the new Skipper out there requested me personally for his first cruise. You know what they say about scuttlebutt in the Navy..."

"Yeah. It's usually true." Frank answered with an understanding nod. "That would keep you out of combat." He tried to put a positive spin on it. Frank Burnett knew his wife's moods. Harm trapping on a carrier was often bad enough, but Harm trapping on a carrier after flying through heavy enemy fire made for some sleepless nights.

"Yeah, it would." Harm nodded as Frank tossed him a beer from the cooler at his feet. That was one thing he missed about California, that you could sit outside with a cooler in late October and still savour a nice cold beer without an arctic breeze ripping your guts out. "I invited Skates, the Skipper and a couple other officers to the dinner party tomorrow."

"Well, that's nice, Harm." Trish smiled fondly. "You ought to have people to talk to while this is going on. And we always enjoy meeting your friends. And speaking of your friends..."

"Don't start, Mom." Harm had heard that segue one time too many and figured he knew what the next topic of conversation was sure to be.

"I was simply going to say that Ethan stopped by the house a few months back." Trish explained. "You remember Ethan from the Academy, don't you?"

Harm gave a quick laugh of relief. Of course he knew Bax, the guy was only one of his closest and oldest friends. "Yes mom, I know Bax."

"Anyway, Frank and I had him for dinner and I knew a young artist who brought her stuff into the gallery that he'd be just perfect for. So, I set the two of them up and they've been dating ever since." Trish was proud of her little romantic accomplishment.

"Can't be." Harm swallowed a little beer. "I've known Bax for twenty years, the longest relationship he's had in that period was about six months." Harm couldn't believe he forgot initially that his friend was even stationed out here at Coronado after the court martial.

"Well, they have been." Trish countered with a smile. "And you'll get to see for yourself when they come out here tomorrow night."

"Why must you fix people up?" Harm looked to his mother.

"It's a woman thing, Harm." Frank answered. "You'll never be able to explain it, so don't try."

"Speaking of fixing up..." Trish took her cue. "How's Mac?"

"Dating a Senator, Mom." Harm answered simply.

"And does she love him? Or is this like the Australian where you turned her down and so she tried to move on?" Trish loved her son, dearly, but Lord almighty if the boy wasn't surprisingly thick sometimes.

"No, mom. He loves her very much, and I think she's in love with him too." Harm hoped that his answer would end this particular line of questioning. Of course it didn't.

"Harm, just tell me that you tried with the girl, after everything that you went through with her. After all the signs that even blind men couldn't miss, that you at least got off the bench." Trish's voice was at once stern and pleading with her son.

"I followed her out to the middle of the ocean, mom, when I found out that she'd gone TAD after her engagement collapsed. " Harm answered

"But did you tell her?" Trish cut through his talk.

"I went out there to talk with her, she cut me off." Harm volleyed back.

"But did you tell her?" Trish repeated.

"Tell her what, mom?" Harm tried to drop chaff but it hadn't worked, now he was just answering out of exasperation.

"That you love her, Harmon." She answered simply. "Or were those words simply too tough to get out?"

1030 ZULU

BARTLET FAMILY FARM

OUTSIDE MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE

They'd gotten to the Bed and Breakfast a little late that night after stopping in at the Bartlet farm. Sam was staying down the road in a small little no-tell motel that was budget proof. Even if it did look like the setting of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. A few hours of sleep and a continental breakfast later and the day was expected to begin. Nate left a note for Mac telling her that he was leaving her the rental car and he would jog out to the Bartlet's . Thankfully for him, the B & B was relatively close to the Manchester city limits and the Bartlet's farm wasn't too far out of town. Sam had decided to jog out with him after taking a cab to meet up with him.

They arrived at the unpaved driveway to the farm just before 0530 hours, beating the sun to the farm on this particular Saturday morning. Leo was already up, he of course was allowed to stay at the farm when he was in New Hampshire. The rest of the Bartlet campaign staff would likely roll in around 0700. Leo opened the front door and welcomed the two of them in. "You know, they invented cars so you didn't have to run everywhere, right?"

"Yeah." Nate nodded as he attempted to catch his breath. "But it was just a warm up run, couldn't have been more than seven or eight miles."

"You two are absolutely crazy." Leo shook his head as he led the two of them into the kitchen where they were surprised to see Abbey Bartlet already out of bed. "They ran here, can you believe that?"

"They're young, Leo, and as such prone to random acts of craziness." Abbey commented with a smile as she tossed the boys some bottled water. "Did the two of you eat?"

"Yes, ma'am." Both answered as they took the caps off the bottles.

"Don't 'ma'am' me." Abbey warned with a mock stern tone.

"Sorry, Dr. Bartlet." Nate covered for the two of them with a smile. "Is Jed awake?"

"Before six in the morning?" Abbey laughed. "Surely, you must be kidding."

"Told him it would be bright and early this morning." Nate gulped down some water and wiped his mouth.

"For Jed, there is only one 0530 a day, and it doesn't happen in the morning." Abbey laughed again as she made herself a little. "But if you want to send Leo up to wake him, I'd have no objection to that."

"Send me up to wake him?" Leo questioned, faking his protest. "She treats me like the butler."

"That's what I mistook you for when you opened the door a few minutes ago." Nate joked and Leo shook his head with a smirk as he headed for the stairs.

"So, why the early morning wake up call for my husband?" Abbey sipped at her morning cup of coffee as she sat at the kitchen table.

"Told him to expect an early morning reveille." Nate took a seat at the table. "We're doing Bartlet College this morning, an hour of education on the military and an hour of foreign policy. We're gonna do the military hour while going for a run around the property."

"5:30 wake up calls and running, you should hang around more. You're a good influence." Abbey smiled at the younger man who was beginning to figure so prominently in her husband's campaign.

"What kind of human being gets up at this ungodly hour?" Jed made his presence known as he entered the kitchen.

"Marines." Nate answered simply. The cast was off from his broken leg, He was healed and this was his way of rehabbing it. Mac called it pushing too hard but he was tired of limping around. He'd spent too much time doing that over the summer by his own estimation. "I'd go put on some sweats, you're gonna get your first military lesson during a jog."

"Jog?" Jed peaked a curious eyebrow. "This is a verb with which I am unfamiliar."

"Well, I can acquaint you with it real quick, Governor." Nate got up from the table. "Besides, a little early morning exercise is supposed to be good for the soul."

"Uh huh." Jed gave a disbelieving look. "How much is Abbey paying you to torture me?"

"I work pro bono." Nate gave a sarcastic grin. "Now unless you want me making Notre Dame jokes until the end of time and asserting the dominance of the Penn State Nittany Lion over your Fighting Irish, I'd get ready to run, Jed."

Taken aback by the affront against his beloved Irish, Jed tossed an angry glare at the Junior Senator from Virginia. "I'll be back downstairs in five minutes." Jed turned around and headed back up the stairs and a soft chuckle rose in the kitchen. True to his word, Governor Bartlet was back downstairs in about five minutes in a pair of jogging sweats. Abbey, Leo and Sam followed the two of them out to the front porch where they stretched for a few minutes before standing at the top of the stairs and looking out on to the farm.

"We'll run the property line, maybe a couple times if we can get a second go around in to finish the hour." Nate trotted down off the stairs and toward the fence with Jed following close behind.

"You know with the way they get along, they might be natural..."Sam leaned on the porch railing but Leo cut him off.

"You want to jinx us now?" He said incredulously.

"I'm just saying, if a politician were to win the nomination this year, and he were in this situation, he'd already have his biggest political decision made for him." Sam pretended to theorize hypothetically. "We can cut the hypothetical talk, Leo. We're eleven weeks to Iowa and closing on Hoynes, you must have at least thought about a Bartlet-Ross ticket."

He had, only about six or seven dozen times. It was the best, most logical idea. They complimented each other well and he knew what a trial it was finding other politicians that Jed liked, much less could joke around with. "Talk to me again when the caucuses are over." Leo gave Sam a pat on the inside of his shoulder as he moved past him and back into the house.

Mac pulled up to the farm house less than an hour later to find Abbey standing on the front porch as Jed and Nate made their way back into the house from the far fence. "They're running?" Mac questioned as she strolled up the steps.

"Nathan decided it would help Jed understand his education in American military command structure and tradition." Abbey answered with a fond smile as she watched her husband huff and puff as he came into the home stretch. "Still adjusting to life as the significant other of a political figure?"

"Is campaign season always this rough?" Mac asked as she stood next to the older woman whom she'd come to see as something of an older sister figure.

"You start praying for mid November." Abbey was dead serious. "You watch how it consumes whole days and some times even weeks of your life."

"Then why did you do it, or let him?" Mac asked, still trying to understand.

"Because I love him and I want his dreams to come true." Abbey stated plainly. "It helps to know that he's sure he can do some good. But if you can't want something just because your partner wants it, then politics can kill you." Abbey smiled at Mac and disappeared into the house.

0316 ZULU

BURNETT RESIDENCE

LA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA

Harm knew these kinds of parties. Every once in a while his mother was obliged to throw them as fundraisers for the gallery so that it would support bringing in new undiscovered talent whose reputation wasn't, as yet, commercially viable. Harm would get dressed up in his Class A blue uniform and let the commuter connoisseurs of the Greater San Diego art community tell him about how brave he was to do what he did for a living. Harm knew how to mind his manners at these kinds of functions. It was basically a nod and smile event. He tried just standing on the back patio away from the food. Thankfully, Skates was the first person who Harm recognized other than his parents who decided to show up.

"Thank God, Skates." Harm's relief was evident.

"You've never been that happy to see me in the past, sir." Skates joked as she picked up some shrimp off the snack table.

"Yeah, well I was never trapped in the backyard by people with more money than taste before, Skates." Harm shot off a joke of his own as the two Naval officers tried to shield each other from a schmooze level that was threatening to reach critical mass.

"Almost makes you wish we'd been stranded a few miles off shore huh, sir?" Skates cast her eyes out over the Pacific.

"I been there with you before, Skates, not sure I want to do it again." Harm grinned as he turned toward the sea himself.

"Well I was referring to being stranded offshore aboard ship, sir." Skate commented. "Or don't you consider me to be particularly good company."

"Skates, why is it you can call me Harm when we're flying but not when our feet hit the deck?" He turned toward her and leaned on the stone retaining wall.

"Habit, sir." Skates answered sarcastically but with a smile. This caused Harm to roll his eyes and shake his head. That's when he saw another familiar form come through the door in the shape of his Skipper, Karma. "Skipper." Skates nodded to Karma.

"Commander Hawkes." Karma nodded back.

"You two want to cut that out around here?" Harm suggested. "All you're doing is drawing attention to the uniforms and in this crowd that could lead to being forced to recount every single detail about every single aspect of carrier life from flight ops to flushing the head."

"It can't be all that bad." The Skipper waved Harm off. "Besides, looks like your folks rolled out a pretty good food spread." Karma grinned as he popped a crab puff into his mouth. "Aren't we supposed to mingle?"

"My advice is duck and cover." Harm directed as they saw a few more old money female septuagenarians headed their way. "Quick, talk about anything that will bore them and cause them to leave us the hell alone."

"Uh...uh..." The Skipper froze while trying to take Harm's advice. His former CAG's eyes grew wider as the two elder women seemed to have locked on the Skipper and CAG. Just as the women approached and seemed about to shamelessly flirt, or at least act in a way which vaguely approximated flirting, with the two Naval officers, the Skipper regained his powers of speech. "CAG, I think you're right, there are just too many problems with the F-22 in early carrier tests for the Pentagon to schedule more intense testing just yet." The Skipper gave a hard exhale as the women turned and headed away.

"Observe the Ancientus Country Clubbus." Skates nodded. "Once young and beautiful, these now withered old women spend most of their time being difficult with their servants and preying on unsuspecting young men. Preferred targets include Naval officers and pool boys."

"Wow, Skates, I didn't know you could be funny." Harm toyed as he looked out into the crowd. To his knowledge, their company was missing four. Commanders Fanelli and D'Amigo were expected but, and Harm shook his head at this one, God only knew what would happen when two young officers like them found themselves with a free two days in port. After all, Priest had been confined to the ship during liberty call in Sydney, they were likely attempting to make up for lost time. The idea of making up for lost time was one Harm had let his mind wander to often over the last few weeks, hell even the last few months. It was one thing that kept a part of his soul tethered to his old desk at JAG Headquarters. He looked up and saw the face of his old Academy classmate, Ethan Baxter, making his way through the crowd.

"Harm!" Bax called as he made his way over.

"Bax." Harm called back and he wrapped his old friend in a quick bear hug before stepping back to introduce him to the other officers. "Captain Ethan Baxter, this is Captain Kevin Rice and Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes. Captain Baxter and I went to the Academy together."

"Nice to meet you, Captain." Karma shook Bax's hand, followed by Skates.

"Captains, Commander, may I introduce you to Michelle Fournier." Bax presented the woman whom Trish Burnett had fixed him up with months earlier. Harm was the first to step forward.

"Nice to meet you, I'm..." Harm started his introduction but she interrupted him.

"Harmon Rabb." She stated with a smile. "You're all your mother ever talks about. Well, when she wasn't trying to sell me on a date with this one." She playfully nudged Ethan's shoulder.

"Well, mom always did have great taste." Harm gave a quick smile. "I always wondered what kind of woman it would take to turn him into a respectable citizen."

"I'm not sure I'm there, yet." Michelle returned Harm's joke. "He's a pretty big project." She stared adoringly into Ethan's eyes.

"Hey!" Bax fired off a mock protest. "I think I've matured a lot since the Academy."

"I'll have to pass along some stories to you later." Harm smiled at Michelle.

"I'll get a pen and paper." Michelle sipped her wine, her arm looped around Ethan's. Harm couldn't get over how happy his old friend looked as the night went on. It all seemed to flow so naturally for Bax and Michelle. His jokes, her laughs; her looks, his smiles; his supportive arm on her shoulder and her comforted head on his shoulder. Harm could remember a time and place where it had all been that easily and in that instant he uttered a quiet curse for letting it all become so complicated. He'd done that a lot lately. Bemoan or resolve to change a situation that he had no inkling or clue that Mac wanted to change any more. Once upon a time, she did. Maybe she even did all those months ago when she'd come out to Fallon on that investigation. But now she was in a very serious relationship. Now, she had just about everything she wanted within her grasp. She had a good career. She had a good man. That was what made all this so tough for Harm, Nate was a good guy, an honourable guy. If he got Mac, he'd hurt a guy who likely wouldn't deserve it. It was one of the things that made him so hesitant.

Harm gave his head a shake just in time to see Priest and Commander D'Amigo come jogging through the crowd. "CAG, Skipper." Both of the officers came to attention in front of their superiors. "Permission to share good news with the Captains."

"Granted." Karma put them at ease.

"Well, sirs..." Priest looked like the cat who swallowed the proverbial canary, it was a scene that made Harm laugh. The young aviator reached down for Commander D'Amigo's hand. When the hand was raised, a diamond glistened on the ring finger. "We're engaged."

"And we owe it all to you, CAG." Commander D'Amigo leaped at Harm and gave him a big hug,

"You knew they were planning this?" Karma turned on Harm.

"I knew they were seeing each other, I knew nothing about this." Harm raised his arms in surrender.

"So, you knew they were seeing each other?" Karma continued his questioning.

"You mean, you didn't, sir?" Skates, ever the good RIO, jumped in to save the CAG's six. "They weren't exactly good at hiding it."

"Well..." Karma fondled his cover for a second. "I suppose there's nothing I can do about it here, right?"

"Right." Harm nodded knowingly. The CAG poured his friends some champagne. He shared a quick glance with Skates, one of understanding that asked why the two of them had to be surrounded by two happy couples on this particular night. It was enough to make both of them sick. Harm handed the glasses around and everyone took one. "To the happy couple." Harm toasted.

"Fair winds and following seas." The Skipper added and everyone drank.

1708 ZULU, SUNDAY

DARTMOUTH UNIVERSITY

HANOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE

Mac and Abbey watched from the front row as Jed and Nate had spent most of the morning at this VFW event. Whenever they did joint appearances, Nate was the warm up act. It worked particularly well with Veterans Groups because Nate didn't have a uniform gap to overcome. His combat citations pretty well earned him the respect of any veteran or military man that they would encounter and besides, Nate knew how to rev up a military or veteran audience. He normally talked for the first fifteen or twenty minutes before Governor Bartlet took the stage.

When the Governor took the stage, Nate would normally sit off to the side of the stage on a stool with a bottle of water as the Governor made his pitch. It wasn't the most enthralling of jobs during the second part but Mac watched as the younger faces, the Gulf War, Bosnia, Somalia and Afghanistan vets, they hung on Nate's every word. He was one of them. One of their best and they almost instinctively responded to him as such. The Vietnam veterans responded to the stories Nate could tell about his Dad's tours in country and about how having a father who was always in country had taken an emotional toll on his family growing up. For his part, even Jed Bartlet was in awe as he watched his young friend control the stage during these events.

Jed would say that he'd had hard acts to follow in the past, but going on stage at a function for veterans or students after Nate Ross was one of the tougher ones. On this Sunday though, a weekend of Bartlet Foreign Policy College – including a couple 5:30 reveille calls – had succeeded in giving the Governor a new appreciation for how the other half lived in this country. After Leo had convinced him he could win and then after he again convinced him that he couldn't serve as his Vice President, Jed Bartlet knew that there was only going to be one logical pick for that job. As the two men walked off stage after their rally on the Dartmouth campus, they headed over to where the campaign staffers were gathering in the parking lot. "So, where are you headed?" Jed turned to his younger friend.

"Sam's catching a ride back to Manchester with you guys, Mac and I are going on to Vermont to pick up her little sister before heading back to DC." Nate answered, a crisp New England autumn breeze catching his nose as he spoke. "Big week coming, my sister's wedding next Saturday."

"Give her my best." Jed smiled and shook Nate's hand. The two men parted ways with Jed and most of the Bartlet for America crew headed back to Manchester and Mac and Nate headed up I-89 toward Montpelier where they'd meet up with Chloe's Grandparents, drive to Burlington and catch a flight back to National. Mac had to admit that there was something thrilling about watching him up on the stage. He spoke so well and so passionately, he commanded the floor underneath his feet and it would seem like the emotions of the audience as well. But she got the drive up to Montpelier. Something about working with Harm as long as she had gave Mac that need for speed behind the wheel of a car, though she would say it was more about compensating for not having her Corvette with her.

A call to Mac's cell phone later and they were meeting Chloe out front of a Dairy Queen where she was standing with her grandparents. "Chloe!" Mac greeted as she stepped out of the car.

"Mac!" Chloe ran over and jumped into Mac's arms.

"You're getting so tall." Mac greeted her. "Who told you that you could grow."

"They all grow, Sarah." Chloe's grandmother walked over. "How are you?"

"Good." Mac answered.

"I don't get it, why did the Admiral invite me to the wedding?" Chloe looked up at Mac.

"Well, apparently he took a shine to you at...the last time you two met." Mac stopped herself. She realized that talking about your failed engagement in front of a man with whom you might be considering a commitment was likely not the smartest idea. Especially since the engagement had ended so badly that the former fiancé was on the other end of the planet.

"Just great, sis, but one problem." Chloe avoided Mac's eyes. "Since my growth spurt, I don't have a dress that fits."

"No problem, Chloe." Nate finally chimed in. "You and Mac can abduct my Amex card for an afternoon this week."

"Sweet." Chloe smiled. "I knew I liked you."

"Chloe!" Both Mac and Chloe's grandmother weighed in. "You cannot use him as an ATM!"

"Relax, Mac." Chloe turned toward Mac. "I think he's a good guy anyway. Way better than Mic." That was Chloe, never one for tact, always running into a situation head first. "He doesn't give off that kind slimeball, used car salesman vibe."

"And Mic did?" Mac crossed her arms and inquired.

"Like a Geiger counter at Chernobyl." Chloe answered with a laugh. "Can I get shoes, too?"

"Chloe!" Mac warned again and Nate just laughed and nodded. "You, don't encourage her. Chloe, say goodbye to your grandmother."

"Yes, mom." Chloe fired sarcastically before walking back to her grandmother, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek. The three of them climbed into the car, with Chloe in the backseat, and headed back for the Interstate. "So, are there going to be any people there my age or they all going to be old?"

Nate and Mac laughed. Neither of them were forty and already they were considered old. "How old are you, Chloe?" Nate's eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.

"Almost fifteen." Chloe answered matter-of-factly.

"I think I have some second and third cousins around that age." Nate searched his brain. "They might be there. And there's my nephew Billy, he just turned fifteen, he'll be there for sure."

"Is he cute?" Chloe leaned over the front seat. Since Mac was driving, Nate was able to reach in his pocket and produce his wallet from which he pulled out a picture and handed it to Chloe.

"He's a football player." Mac added, trying to judge Chloe's reaction to the picture using the mirror.

"He's a hunk." Chloe's mouth hung slightly open. "Tall, dark hair, mysterious dark eyes, definitely got kind of a leather jacket bad boy thing going on."

Mac and Nate shared a laugh again. "Well, we'll probably be going to his game on Friday evening. Feel free to tell him that." Mac joked and she watched as Chloe closed her mouth and silently handed the picture back.

2011 ZULU

BARNETT RESIDENCE

LA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA

Harm awoke, simply hoping that no one would make a big deal out of today. He knew that Bax had gotten too "drunk" to drive back to base last night...which Harm knew was bull since he'd seen Bax drink a lot more in years gone by. And he understood very quickly why his mother had offered Skates the guest room last night. It was October 25th, his birthday. He could hear the shuffling going on downstairs as his mom got everything ready for the big reveal when he finally joined the rest of the house.

Harm figured that right now, all he wanted to do was a quick check of his email before descending the stairs and gluing a smile to his face. He walked into Frank's office upstairs and fired up the Internet for a quick second and logged on to his email address. There he found just one note.

To: "Harmon Rabb"

From: "Sarah MacKenzie"

Hey Flyboy,

I'm sending this out early Friday before I head up to New England for vacation this weekend. If you get this before Sunday, consider it an early birthday greeting. If you get it on Sunday, then Happy Birthday, Harm! You're forty, how does it feel? I heard from Admiral Chegwidden that you're going to be staying at his place while you're in town because the subletter at your old place isn't out until November 15th. So, I left your present there and you can feel free to open it when you get in. I picked out special for you. Hope you like it. I'll be back in town with Chloe by late Monday, I'm sure she'd love to see you. I miss you, Harm. I'll see you when you get here this week.

Mac

Harm stared at the computer screen for a second. Well, maybe birthdays weren't all bad. Mac's message had given him just enough courage to collect himself and head for the stairs and the Birthday "surprise" awaiting him at the bottom. When he got there, he found his mom, Frank, Skates, Bax and Michelle waiting for him. When they all shouted "Surprise!", he smiled. But when he saw the "Sorry, you're forty" banner, he couldn't hold back the tidal wave of laughter that rose from his gut.


	18. Brilliant Disguise

It was the last night of Senate business that Nate would work before taking time off for the wedding, which was supposed to happen on Saturday. But Nate wasn't conducting Senate business, he was busy, in his office, with the desk lamp on helping Lily conduct a little household budget review. The day-to-day bills, utilities and the like were worked through and Nate began to slowly realize that having three kids in the house tended to explode the cable and electric bills. The Junior Senator from Virginia could only shake his head, the household bills were certainly something he'd never let pile up when he'd run the apartment but he estimated that it was likely easier to control the bills when you were the only person living there.

He pulled another piece of paper in front of him and stared down at the twelve point font. It was the tuition statement for Billy at Bishop O'Connell. "This is what you're paying per year to send Billy to school?"

"Want to send him to Catholic school and it ain't cheap." Lily looked up from the electric bill. "Stephen's normally good to come up with most of it but after that we've got football costs and stuff."

"I'll go down to the bank tomorrow and have the costs covered." Nate leaned forward in his chair. "He's a good kid and he sure as hell loves his football."

"Yeah, he does." Lily nodded. "Loves you too, thinks you walk on water."

"If I tried that, I'd drown, trust me." Nate chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

"I know that, but you've always kind of acted like his second father, ever since he was four years old. He's always responded to you like one." Lily shook her head. "Maybe that's what got Stephen pissed off, he saw his oldest son turning into you. There are a hell of a lot worse things for him to turn into." She reached across the table and put a hand on top of his. Nate pulled back like he'd been burned.

"Billy's the kid he is because you raised him right and because he's made the choices he's made in his life. He could just as easily have turned out like his father." Nate got up from his chair and went over to lean against the window.

"Yeah, but he didn't. He wants to be you, well you when you and Nicole were babysitting him. I think he thinks you've gone all Washington weenie on him in the last few years. When you put on that uniform though..." She let the end of the sentence linger as she too got up out of a chair.

"He's a Ross, he probably thinks we're like somewhat out of our depth when we're not in Marine Green or something." Nate laughed nervously. He could count the feet between him and the door. He knew if he jogged or ran he'd make it. But there was something wrong about that. Something wrong about not giving Lily the benefit of the doubt here. But as she moved toward him, the gently sway of her hips, the scent of perfume carried throughout the room by the gentle hum of the building's central air conditioning unit, he knew something could get very wrong here very fast if he didn't do something. Walking became power walking as he moved toward the door only to have her get in front of him. "I've uh...I've got to go. I'd like to spend a little time with Mac before the weekend gets all crazy with the wedding and everything."

"Nathan..." She whispered and stepped in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He backed off hard and shook his head.

"No." He summoned his inner strength and moved past her and out of the office. He started running when he hit the corridor and didn't stop until he got to the car. He slammed the door behind him and let out a hard breath. Dropping his head between his knees he reached up with both hands and roughly mussed the hair at the back of his head. "Drive, home." He instructed his driver who pulled the car out of the parking garage. All the way to Mac's apartment, Nate could do nothing but stare out the window of the car. Could he tell her when he got home? Was there even anything to tell? He'd shut down anything bad right away. Telling her would only serve to cause unneeded animosity between the two women.

When the car pulled up in front of Mac's building, Nate got out and sent the driver home. He headed up to her apartment and stood for a second outside the front door. This wasn't unusual. The last few months of coming home were usually like this. He was never sure if he was supposed to knock first or just walk in. He usually knocked but Mac told him it was okay to just let himself in. The door to the apartment opened in front of him and there was her incredible and recognizable form. "You were gonna knock again." She smiled but he just stepped into the apartment, dropped his briefcase, kicked the door closed behind him, snaked one hand up to the crook of her neck and proceeded to kiss the hell out of her.

"Hey, impressionable teenager in the apartment!" Chloe called from the living room couch. Mac smiled against Nate's lips. She bit her own lower lip as she pulled away.

"What was that for, Marine?"Mac smiled at her boyfriend.

"Just because." He answered with a smile of his own. "And what about you, kiddo? Did you have fun today?" Nate looked over Mac's shoulder at Chloe.

"Oh yeah!" Chloe leaped off the couch. "Mac and I went shopping tonight. I picked up a dress for Saturday and two pairs of shoes."

"So my Amex card took a beating?" Nate laughed. "I'm sure you'll look great at the wedding, Chloe." His hand slid into Mac's and the two of them headed into the kitchen. Once the two of them were outside Chloe's line of vision. He pressed Mac up against the fridge and picked her up by her six, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist.

"Oh, there's my man." She purred into his ear, sending a thrill all the way down his spine. Mac ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. She gripped the hair and gave it a bit of a tug. "You know you like it." Of course he did. She could still remember the morning he'd gotten up to go to work, jumped in the shower and screamed when hot water coursed over the six four-inch scratch marks she'd left in his back. Nate began to work his way down her jawline to that little sweet-spot on her neck.

The sound of a clearing throat was enough to interrupt the moment. "If you two wanna do that with a teenager in the house, the kitchen isn't the best place to hide out." Chloe crossed her arms in front of her and the two Marines blushed bright pink.

1642 ZULU

ADMIRAL CHEGWIDDEN'S HOUSE

MCLEAN, VIRGINIA

Harm had been rooming with AJ since his return to the DC area. Rooming was a rather liberal description for a visitation that largely consisted of sleeping on a couch, waking up late, running a few wedding errands and then spending the afternoon on a deck chair, reading and drinking cerveza with Mac's birthday present tucked between his legs. "You know, when I offered to let you stay here, I figured you'd be a little more constructive." The Admiral strode on to his porch.

"I've been plenty constructive." Harm lifted the straw cowboy hat out of his eyes.

"You sit on my porch all afternoon with that damn dog and drink." AJ commented as he took a seat in the other chair. "It's not even summer, what are you doing out here?"

"It's relaxing." Harm answered. "Starting to think that the four sweetest words in the military are administrative leave until reassigned."

"You had a beer yet?" AJ inquired.

"Nope." Harm answered.

"Pass me one." AJ motioned toward the cooler, Harm reached in and produced a beer. "So, what's with that damn dog anyway?" The Admiral motioned toward the stuffed dog in his lap.

"Mac's birthday present." Harm answered. It was a stuffed Jack Russell Terrier that had a custom made Naval Captain's uniform on it, complete with aviator's wings and JAG officer shoulder-boards. It even had small ribbons on it and a collar with the name "Kip" hanging from the tag. "Told her once that my favourite dog growing up was a Jack Russell named Kip."

"Nice present." AJ looked impressed. "Keep it out for a few seconds and let her see you holding it. You'll get massive points, she's on her way out here."

Harm sat bolt upright in the chair. "Why is she coming out here?"

"You and her are running errands to help make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch." The Admiral informed him. "My future brother-in-law and I are hauling U-Haul trucks full of stuff to the Chapel at Annapolis all day. I need you to make sure the following stuff gets here by 4 pm, so that it's on the last truck." AJ handed him the list.

"Sir, wouldn't it all just have been easier to find this stuff at boutiques in Annapolis?" Harm examined the piece of paper.

"Rabb." The Admiral used his best foreboding tone.

"Shutting my mouth." Harm smiled quickly. He got out of the chair and went into the house to fish through the sea bag and find some clothes to dress himself up a bit. "I thought Mac was just a bridesmaid and that your wife's sister was the Matron of Honour, sir?"

"Technically that's true but Anna's doing her third year at the Academy right now and as such doesn't exactly have the time to be running all over DC trying to help co-ordinate a wedding." AJ answered from out on the porch. "Frankly, the Colonel's been a life saver. Her and Lieutenant Sims have basically been Bradley and Patton to Beverley's Eisenhower since the planning part started."

"An Army metaphor, sir?" Harm reappeared on the porch.

"I think of it more as a World War Two metaphor." The Admiral took another sip of his drink. "It's not like that's a long list, Harm. The first two trucks are already loaded up and ready to ship out. Most of that stuff is just going in my SUV at the end of the day. And besides, you'll get time to catch up with Mac."

"And that's invaluable, right flyboy?" Mac made her presence known as she climbed up the steps of the porch. She walked over and hugged him. "Are you staying out of trouble?"

"I got myself a Navy Cross." Harm boasted in a quiet tone.

"I heard, we get the Navy Times in Washington, too, ya know?" Mac teased. "You already give him the list of what we've got to pick up, sir?"

"I have." The Admiral nodded from his deck chair. "Though he hasn't put that damn dog down since he got back." The Admiral pointed his beer at the plush toy in Harm's hand.

"So, you're enjoying my little birthday present?" Mac watched Harm attempt to hide the dog behind his back. He flushed a bright pink for a second and then felt the need to try and turn the tables and reassert himself.

"Well, you always did have a knack for this kind of thing, Ninja-girl." Harm flashed her a quick flyboy grin and Mac eyed him suspiciously. The use of an endearment that she'd thought long since forgotten was odd but not unwelcome.

"That's what my experience has shown, too." Nate bounded up the steps. "Ready to get the trucks rolling, AJ?"

"Just let me get my coat." The Admiral got up off the chair and disappeared into the house.

"Good to see you, Harm." Nate reached out and offered his hand.

"You too, Nate." Harm was caught off balance by the presence of Mac's boyfriend for a second only to remember that the Admiral had told him that Nate would be helping him cart loads of wedding supplies to Annapolis. "How's life on the Hill?"

"Mercifully done for another week." Nate grinned and leaned back against the railing of the porch. "I hear you've become the subject of a dispute between COMNAVAIRPAC and COMNAVAIRLANT."

"Like I was telling the Admiral, I've learned that the four sweetest words in Navy lingo can be administrative leave until reassigned." Harm offered a laugh of his own. "Must be nice to be able to take a Friday off."

"Well, you know Congress. It's nothing but golf, vacation and voting yourself a pay raise." Nate shot sarcastically.

"Ready to go, Nate?" The Admiral adjusted his jacket on his shoulders as he walked back out of the house.

"Yeah." Nate nodded slowly before turning with AJ and heading toward the steps of the porch. He stopped for a second, trotted back and gave Mac a sweet, simple kiss on the lips before jogging down in to the driveway and climbing in behind the wheel of one of the moving vans.

"You two seem happy." Harm commented absently.

"We are." Mac smiled fondly to herself. "Chloe loves him, which is odd because she hated Mic. And he's so good with his nephews, all of them, but Billy especially."

"And you?" Harm turned toward her. "Or is that not a question I get to ask?"

"It depends on why you want to know." Mac shot back, weary of traversing this kind of conversation with Harm again. "But he's very good to me, yes. He still sends me flowers when I'm having a bad day, never leaves without kissing me goodbye. He looks at me with a look of complete adoration in his eyes." She looked up into his eyes. "But the most important part is that I'm able to be myself around him. I never feel like I have to separate the woman from the Marine. I never feel like I have to let him possess me just to get him to love me. Maybe it's because he did have a normal family life, he knows what it's like to love someone unconditionally and it's easier for him to do that."

"I don't know that that's ever easy, Mac." Harm hung his head, avoiding her eyes.

"It's only as hard as you want it to be." Mac answered back immediately. "He's not like Dalton or Mic, he doesn't love me for what he wants me to be. He loves me for me."

"How's the Admiral dealing with his new in-laws?" Harm felt a drastic need to change the subject.

"Well, he and the General almost came to blows over who was going to pay for the wedding, but the Admiral is slowly fitting into his spot in the family. He's sort of taking over the older brother role." Mac laughed to herself. "It was a little touch and go there for awhile but the family's kind of that way. They protect the girls. They let the boys be the boys. Beverley and Anna treat me like another sister. They really do treat me like one of their own."

"More than the Admiral?" Harm inquired as they strode down the steps.

"I think in a way. It might be a Marine thing." Mac smiled. "What about you? I mean you had your own little floating JAG reunion out on the carrier with Kate and Bud out there."

"It's never the same, Mac." Harm opened up the driver side door. AJ had let them use his SUV for their errands today. "I was glad to spend some time with Bud, it seems like I never really got to spend much with him after he got a caseload all his own. But it also wasn't like I had a whole lot of time to socialize. Being the CAG was a full time and overtime kind of job."

"You still managed...time with Kate." Mac was sure to choose her words carefully.

"It wasn't what you think. I mean, it wasn't fraternization and it wasn't a relationship. Kate is Kate, that's all she is to me. She's a friend, but we just happen to..." Harm just let his voice trail off.

"What, Harm? Fuck?" Mac smiled, still unable to believe that somewhere deep down that prudish Harmon Rabb still existed.

"Do you really have to use that word?" Harm fired up the engine to the SUV.

"You'd prefer screw? Bang? What, Harm? If there's no relationship involved, no love involved, then that's what you're doing." Mac was just starting to goad him. "Not that there's anything wrong with it. You're two healthy, attractive people. You know you have chemistry, you know you're out at sea for months. It happens, Harm. Kate coming down for the wedding tomorrow?"

"Kate's in London." Harm answered, in slight disbelief at Mac's attitude. "Skates went through a bad break up last week, I talked her into coming down here for the wedding, figured there'd be plenty of single Marines and sailors for her."

"You bribed her?" Mac laughed heartily.

"A friendly suggestion." Harm jested. "So, CNN says that your wonderful boyfriend might end up as the next Vice President of the United States. Ya know, if that whole Bartlet thing works out." Harm pulled them on to the Beltway and headed for the bridge into DC.

"Yeah." Mac nodded, her eyes drifting out the passenger side window. "I've gotten to know the Bartlet campaign people, they're nice."

"Politicians are nice?" Harm forced out a sarcastic laugh. "What happened to the Mac who used to think that all politicians were basically snakes. Aren't you worried that Nate's just gonna become another one of them?"

"You know, Harm, the two of you aren't as different as you like to pretend sometimes. I think that's part of the reason that you two either fight or smile when you're together. If you two aren't busy trying to find a new higher bar for the other one to clear, and prove his worth, you're patting each other on the back for clearing the damn bar." Mac shook her head in frustration. "Head into Georgetown for the boutique."

"Thanks." Harm turned toward their destination as they rolled off the bridge. "You're exaggerating."

"You know what? Is there a more knowledgeable person to evaluate the two of you? I've thought about it and I know what the difference is." Mac stated plainly. "Nate is what you would be if your dad had come back from Vietnam, you are what he'd be if his dad didn't."

"I don't...I..." Harm wanted to rebut her argument but he decided that silence was the better part of valour in this instance."Why are we even talking about this?"

"Don't ask me, you brought it up." Mac reminded him with a kind smile. "So, you're taking Skates, huh?"

"It's not like that, Mac. I'd think you would know that." Harm pulled the car up to the side of the curb. Since they'd entered Georgetown, Mac had simply been pointing to indicate right or left turns rather than using the words.

"Why not? Skates is attractive, she shares your love of flying and she probably knows you better than just about any woman on this planet." Mac offered her argument as they entered the boutique. "Bridesmaid dresses for Chegwidden." Mac handed the girl behind the counter an alterations ticket and she disappeared into the back to find the dresses.

"Yes, Skates is attractive and yes, she shares my love of flying but I don't think she knows me better than any woman on this planet. You and my mom probably both know me better than Skates does." Harm answered almost without thinking about the possible implications of that answer.

"Well, good to know that your mother and I have something in common, I suppose." Mac cast a sideways glance at Harm. "And every once in a while, I still do catch you being nice."

"I'm usually nice." Harm gave mock offense. "And we spent six years as partners at JAG, Mac, I think you'd know that I have an appreciation for how well you know me."

"Sometimes things don't go without saying, Harm." Mac answered simply and the girl behind the counter returned with the dresses. She handed them to Harm. "Anything outstanding on the bills."

"Nope, you're all settled up." The girl answered with a smile. "Have fun with the wedding."

"Thanks." Harm answered with a groan as he lugged the three dresses back out of the shop to the Admiral's car. Harm was impressed with the dresses from what little was able to be gleaned through a dry cleaner's bag.. First off, there was nothing that in anyway resembled a neon colour. Second, the shoulders didn't look as though they were inflated via manual air nozzle and third, they actually had necklines, something which promised to make Mac quite the sight tomorrow.

"So, how is your mom? Tell me that you went to go see her after you guys docked at North Island." Mac began to interrogate him as they slid into the SUV again.

"Yes, I went to go see her." Harm used a monotonous tone. "Her and Frank are both great. In fact, with Bax stationed out at Coronado, mom has taken him on as a second son. She even fixed him up with one of the local artists that she showcases at her gallery."

"I always figured that your mom had a bit of the yenta in her." Mac laughed. "How many times has she tried to fix you up?"

"Mom never tires to fix me up. She just hears about women in my life and tries to point me in a certain direction, sometimes rather strenuously." Harm corrected Mac with a smile. "She used to consult with Gram on the best way to go about this but I think my Grandmother has given up on me."

"Well, I don't think you're quite a lost cause yet." Mac joked. "You should still be swatting them away like flies, Harm."

"Thanks, Mac." For a second there, their eyes locked and a fond smile was exchanged. "Now, do you want to grab some lunch before we pick up the cake or do you want to grab the cake first, take it back to the Admiral's and then grab lunch?"

"Harmon Rabb, did your mother not teach you that dessert always comes _after_ a meal?" Mac played up a little mock indignation to bring a smile to his face.

"She did, but I just know your stomach after all these years, Marine." Harm jostled back as he drove them through Georgetown. "So, what are we thinking for lunch? Vegetarian?"

"You didn't manage to convince some Georgetown restaurant to serve Harm's special meatless meatloaf, did you?" Mac wearily questioned.

"It's been three years and you're still dogging Harm's special meatless meatloaf? Have I not done enough to redeem myself for one bad meal?"Harm laughed as the drove down the street.

"Harm, that meal wasn't just bad, it was in violation of several international laws against the use of biological weapons." Mac joked. "But I think a salad is a good idea for lunch." The two of them were accompanied by the sounds of the radio for a few seconds as they drove in relative silence until they got to the restaurant. They were shown to a seat on the terrace and handed menus before the conversation started again.

"So, what exactly is it about Nate that Chloe likes so much?" Harm continued looking at his menu while he asked the question.

"Harmon Rabb, are you jealous?" Mac smiled as she toyed with him.

"I'm not jealous, she just seems to be a bit fickle with her affection is all. I thought I was her favourite." Harm used a playful tone, but was only half playing.

"It's not a contest, Harm." Mac laughed to herself. "But it could be a lot of things. It could be the fact that he acts like a big kid around her. It could be the fact that she knows he makes me happy. It could be the fact that he spoils her rotten or it could even be the fact that I think she's got the hots for his nephew Billy."

"Uh huh." Harm stated with a kind of 'are you serious?' expression on his face. "I knew I should have taken her flying."

"Not a contest, Harm." Mac reminded him. "I'll have the grilled chicken Greek salad." She told the waitress who quickly jotted down the order.

"I'll have the Vegetarian pizza special." Harm handed his menu over. "I know it's not a contest, Mac. It's just, it seems like the only thing that's really changed about JAG is that I'm not there and yet nothing about the place or the people really seems the same as before."

"Well, you've been gone for ten months, Harm. Between Fallon and the Nimitz, you were off doing your own thing and as such you were bound to miss some stuff at JAG." Mac explained as she sipped at her water. "It's not something you should begrudge us, or something we should begrudge you. You love flying, I saw it in your eyes when I came out to the Nimitz. You loved running that Air Wing, hard as it likely was. For Bud and Harriet, and the Admiral and me, our lives are here."

"Well, mine might be again, too. If COMNAVAIRLANT has their way, I'll be flying off the Patrick Henry which homeports at Norfolk. The fighter squadrons off the Henry are always reassigned to NAS Pax River when we're not deployed, so I'll be in Washington for large parts of the year anyway." Harm explained.

"Which will be nice." Mac smiled as their food arrived. "I really did mean it when I said that I missed you, flyboy."

"Missed you, too, Ninja-girl." Harm picked up his knife and began to slice his pizza.

0103 ZULU

BISHOP MCNAMARA HIGH SCHOOL

FORESTVILLE, MARYLAND

It was the end of the third quarter. McNamara led O'Connell by a score of 31 – 20. Owing to it being the last game of the season, the Conference's three All-Americans as designated by the US Army were announced. Every year, the Army designated the country's 80 best high school football players with their All-American selections. This year the Washington Catholic Athletic Conference had three representatives. One was the senior running back for McNamara, the other two were the senior quarterback for O'Connell and Billy Ross who was the first sophomore to be chosen in twelve years. His season wide stat line bore out the reason why. Playing varsity as a sophomore, he averaged 8.6 catches per game and an average of 15.3 yards per grab. He caught a stunning 18 touchdowns as a sophomore giving him total yardage numbers that led the conference. Something that the kid knew didn't do him a damn bit of good if his team couldn't win this game and continue their push to the State Championship.

"He's playing well but he's running through double coverage." Mac told Nate as she munched on a little concession stand popcorn. "They're relying too heavily on the aerial attack, they've got to go to ground."

"Of course we think that, we're Marines." Nate joked as he stuffed the last piece of hot dog between his teeth. "So, how's Harm?"

"Why do you ask?" Mac stiffened up a little.

"Because he's my friend, I haven't talked to him in a while and you got to spend the day with him as I drove back and forth in a truck from Annapolis." Nate explained.

"He's good." Mac covered. "Seemed a little stir crazy once in a while but he also seemed a little more calm and peaceful other times. I wonder what's up with him."

"Ah, fighter jocks." Nate commented as the fourth quarter started. O'Connell had the ball on the McNamara thirty-two yard line. The O'Connell offence took the snap and played up a running play which fooled their opposition who didn't read the Play Action pass until the receivers were almost twenty yards down field. O'Connell's All-American quarterback got to show off his arm as he fired a bullet down field that Billy grabbed before he was brought down at the three yard line. The offence gathered behind the line for a huddle before moving in on the line again. The quarterback took the snap and played up a pass just long enough to give his offensive line the time to open a hole. With a few long strides and a leap into the air, O'Connell was within four points.

When Chloe got to meet Billy before the game, Mac almost wished she'd had a shovel on hand to clean up the girl's jaw. Billy was one of those kids that girls went for in high school because he had a lot of talent, a lot of charisma and had been blessed with a physical appearance that had developed early. In teenage girl terms, a heart throb. He was also blessed with that typical Ross brooding stare, an effect which was made more intimidating by that dark chestnut hair and pitch dark eyes. He was still built like a beanpole though, something Mac thought was hilarious because she could swear she'd seen this kid eat whole restaurants out of their inventory.

As the fourth quarter wore on, Mac could feel her little sister get more and more impatient. "You know, I probably should have just gone ahead to Annapolis with Harriet and Beverley." Chloe commented. "I could have seen the hunk at the reception tomorrow, anyway. Heck, in my dress and heels, I probably would have made a better impression."

"The hunk, huh?" Mac couldn't help the smile that came to her face as she turned to face Chloe. "And I think you made a fine first impression."

"Really? I was worried I was going to drool all over myself." Chloe subconsciously raised a hand to her lip.

"Don't worry, the drool was barely noticeable." Mac joked and Chloe playfully stuck her tongue out at her. "Besides, wouldn't you rather make that drive with me in the car?"

"Okay, true." Chloe conceded. They went back to watching the game. Time ticked off the clock with the game played largely to a stalemate from one team's forty yard line to the other team's forty yard line. The score remained 31-27 for McNamara as the whistle sounded to mark the two minute warning. The O'Connell Knights were starting this drive from their own thirty-nine yard line. The coach burned a time-out and called the team into a huddle. The Knights fans who had traveled down from Arlington were on the edge of their seat. The Knights re-took the field and lined up for the snap. Then they set the plan into motion. It was ground pounding at it's finest. They would gain four or five yards on the run on first and second down and then throw a short pass if they needed to on third down.

To the other side, this strategy didn't make any sense. It ate seconds off the clock that the Knights were going to need if they were to win the game and it kept the ball in the middle of the field. It did keep winning them first downs though and soon enough they were hovering in around the McNamara forty yard line. McNamara started pulling their Strong Safety in toward their linebackers and moved the Free Safety toward the middle of the field. This was going to make double coverage down field almost impossible, which was exactly what the Knights wanted. The clock now showed twelve seconds remaining in the game. It was second down and six on the McNamara thirty-eight. The O'Connell quarterback took the snap and went right back into the pocket. With the linebackers drawn in, McNamara went for the sack and the Knights' quarterback had to scramble. He took off in a hurry toward the right side and fired off a long pass to his favourite target down field. Billy Ross had an extra two steps on the Cornerback who was supposed to be covering him. He went up for the ball and brought it back in. He fell on his back into the McNamara end zone. 33 – 31, O'Connell.

The kids celebrated on their way into the dressing room, the football coach got a little Gatorade spilled over his head and the parents waited outside the locker room for the players to exit. "Hey, there's the All American." Nate cheered as Billy came walking out with a smile on his face.

"Your uncle and I are very proud." Mac smiled. "And you made a couple nice grabs at the end of the game there."

"Thanks, Mac." Billy smiled. "So, am I heading to Annapolis with you and Uncle Nate and Chloe or is Mom taking me up with Simon and Owen tomorrow?"

"If it's okay with your Mom, I wouldn't mind taking you up tonight." Nate answered.

"Are you going to listen to your uncle?" Lily folded her arms in front of her chest.

"Of course." Billy nodded.

"Alright, you can go." Lily stepped forward and hugged her son. She kissed his forehead. "You listen to your uncle."

"I will, Ma." Billy walked over and stood next to his uncle. Mac and Chloe had gone off to start the car. "I was freakin' on tonight." Billy smiled as he walked with his uncle over to the SUV.

"Yeah, you were." Nate laughed and gave Billy a pat on the back. "So, what do you think of Chloe?"

"She's alright." Billy groaned. "Cool enough, but not exactly what I'm used to." He shrugged.

"Uh huh." His uncle said disbelievingly. "And what are you used to?"

"Come on, Uncle Nate." Billy smiled and tried not to blush. "I'm a varsity All-American Wide Receiver. I'm the only sophomore guy that senior girls will even look at, much less talk to and they don't all talk if you know what I'm saying."

"You're leaving precious little room for misinterpretation." Nate huffed as he stopped the two of them. "Listen, you gotta learn an important word real quick and it's called humility."

"Humility?" Billy questioned.

"Yeah." Nate nodded. "Means just because you can do something or because you are something, doesn't mean ya gotta point it out to everybody else. Girls like a guy who's humble just about as much as they like a guy who walks around like he's got three goddamn legs in his jeans. Put another way, the good Lord gave you two heads, think with the one that has ears on the sides."

"I gotcha." Billy nodded. Getting this kind of talking to from his uncle was rare enough that when he got one, he paid attention.

"Now, you're a good kid and you played a great game." Nate mussed his hair. "If you're good, we'll try and get eighteen in at the Naval Academy Country Club on Sunday." Nate saw Mac in the driver's seat and went to the passenger door.

"Hey, Uncle Nate, what do you think my chances are with a girl at the reception tomorrow?" Billy questioned jokingly and Nate just shook his head.

"Get in the car."

0421 ZULU

ANNAPOLIS MARRIOT WATERFRONT

ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

"Hey Billy, wait up a second." Chloe caught up to Billy who was walking through the hallway. Billy stopped and turned to look at her. "I think, ya know, with the waterfront and everything, this hotel is kind of romantic and Nate and Mac probably don't get the chance to getaway very often. Instead of you rooming with your uncle, why don't we room together and let the two of them have some time."

"Uh huh, okay, and after we propose this idea to them and my Uncle kills me, where did you plan on burying the body?" Billy joked.

"Come on, we can probably get away with it on the condition that you sleep on the couch or the floor or something." Chloe theorized.

"Maybe if I was in a straight jacket." Billy answered.

"Whatever, I'm going." Chloe moved past him to the hotel room where Mac was already laying out her stuff for the next day. "Hey Mac, I had an idea."

"Which I strenuously objected to." Billy had followed her into the room.

"Since you and Nate probably don't get away a lot, why don't the two of you split a room this weekend and I'll take the other room with Billy." Chloe offered with a genuine look on his face.

"Chloe, I don't know what your father would say about that." Mac tread hesitantly.

"Especially with this one not on a leash." Nate walked into the room and playfully wrapped Billy in a headlock. "Your offer is very sweet, Chloe, but your big sister's fears are well founded."

"Come on, guys, you've been great to me all week." Chloe protested. "Billy and I are both old enough to know right from wrong. I want to do this for you, please let me." Chloe put up a pouting face and moved toward Mac who immediately felt her resolve weaken.

"Nate, help?" Mac looked for aid across the room.

"Sorry, Mac, she's good." Nate's response was accompanied by a shoulder shrug.

"Fine, but a few rules." Mac pointed her finger at Chloe. "You two are to go to bed almost immediately once you settle in on that room. We've got a long day tomorrow and it starts early."

"Two, Billy you're either grabbing couch or floor understood?" Nate spun his nephew around so he could look him in the eye.

"Three, no room service." Mac warned Chloe.

"Four, if I hear that even your shadow was anything less than a perfect gentleman, I will make sure that you spend some up close and personal time with me, your grandfather and several of our other male relatives." Nate gave a menacing smile.

"Yes, Mom and Dad." The two teenagers answered before turning slowly and bolting down the hallway. Mac looked down and saw Nate's sea bag in his hand and his pressed uniform in a dry cleaner bag over his arm.

"You knew they would pull that?" She questioned.

"Heard them talking out in the hallway." He smiled and closed the door behind him. "So, before you jump my bones, I think there's something we need to talk about."

"Who said I was going to jump your bones?" Mac couldn't help but tease him.

"Come on, this whole weekend was made for your sex drive. There's a wedding, flowers, a band, great food tomorrow and me in a dress uniform." He tossed his stuff on a nearby chair. "But like I said, we should talk about something."

"What's up?" Mac sat down on the bed and lovingly patted the spot next to her.

"You remember last night when I was at the office helping Lily sort out her household bills?" Nate started the sentence nervously. He watched Mac stiffen up. "She tried to kiss me..." He let it linger out there for a second. "But I pulled away fast and practically sprinted out of the office down to the car."

Mac took a breath. He'd been holding this in. She could tell he'd been a little off today but she knew his character wouldn't let him be anything but honest. At one time she wanted to be angry with him for not seeing this coming when she had seen it coming weeks ahead of time. But he couldn't have acted any better than he did. She also kind of wanted to kill Lily, because even though she felt sympathy for the woman and her situation, you didn't hit on another woman's boyfriend. That simply wasn't kosher.

"Why are you telling me this, Nathan?" Mac laid a hand on his own. For her this was the most crucial question. "Is it because you feel guilt? Why are you telling me?"

"Because we're in a serious committed relationship and I want you to know that I'm the kind of man who's going to be honest with you, who's not going to lie to you." Nate answered, trying to explain the torrent of emotions whirling through his gut.

"Are we really in a serious committed relationship?" Mac questioned.

"I practically live at your house." Nate answered in response.

"Not practically, you do." Mac corrected. "And you have since the thing with Lily and your brother started. But you seem perfectly comfortable with staying at that stage and not moving forward. Do you want to move forward?"

"Yes, eventually." Nate answered with a nod. "We just never talked about it before."

"Nathan, you don't have to prove yourself to me." She comforted him with a hand on his cheek. "I know the kind of man you are and the kind of man you can be. But we're too old to exist in a kind of relationship stasis. You have to know it's going somewhere."

"I do want to marry you, Sarah." He raised a hand to nervously scratch the back of his neck. "I really do." It was a stunning admission. "I just wasn't sure if we were ready for that, yet."

"I wasn't either." Mac admitted, not caring that she had parroted him. "Harriet told me once that with this kind of thing, it helped to be sure. But I think...I think that the nature of humanity is that you're never really sure. You can't be because no decision can ever be completely perfect. After all, I'm not perfect, and neither are you."

"No, but together we're pretty damn good." He smiled and took her in his arms. "Now, to quote a certain troubadour, I know I ain't nobody's bargain but hell a little touch up and a little paint."

Mac laughed. "Well then, baby, how about a little of that human touch, then?" She winked at him and pulled him sideway on to the bed.


	19. Tunnel of Love

_A/N: Okay, a seriously bad case of golfer's elbow waylaid this chapter a few days. Sorry for the inconvenience._

Morning broke on Annapolis the next day. But Mac and Nate were up long before the sun. Mac turned in Nate's arms and raised her fingertips to touch his cheek. She watched his eyelids slowly slide open and stare at her. "Now this is a sight I could get used to." He looked at her adoringly. "My God, Sarah, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" He pushed her hair back out of her face.

"Stop it, I've got bed-head and morning breath. My eyes are probably bloodshot from getting four hours sleep and I'm....yawning." Her pace interrupted by a yawn. She sat up and he pulled her back into his arms.

"You're a study in contrast. At once vulnerable and soft, but at the same time, steeled and strong. Resistant to the easy come ons and cheap expressions but ever appreciative of the small things." He kissed her shoulder. "You know when a kiss is given in genuine love and when it isn't." She almost melted into a pool on the floor looking into his eyes.

"Tell me, when you look at me that way, what do you see?" Mac examined the bristle on his cheeks, the soft look in his eyes.

"The woman I love more than anything in this world." He kissed her shoulder again. "Why?"

"What you said last night, did you mean it?" She lightly stroked his forearm.

"Of course." He kissed her cheek lightly. "Not sure I could resist the idea of waking up to you for the rest of my life. Now, do you want to shower first or do you want me to?"

"You." She pushed him off the bed. "You sweat a little bit on nights when you toss and turn." Nate staggered off into the bathroom and fired up the shower. She listened to the soft melody of the water in the shower and smiled. The rest of her life? She'd always pictured it. Probably a little different than he had. She couldn't imagine any Marine being comfortable living in a place called the Naval Observatory but if this thing with Bartlet worked out, that would likely be the next step. Nathan Ross, Vice President of the United States. If they won, she'd be Sarah MacKenzie, or maybe Sarah Ross and she'd be the Second Lady of the United States.

She was never one for fairy-tales. With the way she grew up, she always thought that fairy-tales were how the rich kids escaped from reality. But here was a Prince if she'd ever seen one. Grew up in the Marine Corps' most renowned family. Back when they were visiting Jed and Abbey in New Hampshire, and Jed had brought up his lineage going back to an original signatory of the Declaration of Independence. Nate had retorted by bringing up his, which extended all the way back to one of the original Marines at Tun Tavern in 1775. She'd smiled at that, his father had been the Commandant, the top Marine and now his son was on a staging ground for the Vice Presidency. She smiled, it couldn't happen to her...could it? Could she put up with the press attention? The public expectations? The chance that she might disappoint him?

Aye, there was the rub. The glare of the spotlight that tended to shine on everyone's imperfections. She loved him. She knew that. She'd fallen in love with him. The idea of him, the reality of him, even a future with him. But there was that sneaking suspicion. That belief that she would be taken as an intruder in this world. That somehow, she would tarnish him. He came walking out of the steam of the bathroom with his white towel wrapped around his waste. "Warmed it up for you." He smiled and walked toward the bed.

Mac bounded up and stripped on her way to the bathroom. "No fooling around." She pointed a scolding finger at him. "We have to get ready, have breakfast and get to the church so that I can help Harriet and your sister make sure that this wedding goes off without a hitch."

"Oh please, do the school marm thing." He teased her. "I'm go get a ruler, you can spank me with it." She couldn't help but laugh.

"What am I going to do with you?" She shouted as she walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Nate stood in the room and began to slide on his Marine Corps dress blues.

"I've got a few ideas." He called back and he could hear her laugh again He slid the pants on and the jacket before setting the belt and accompanying sword on a chair next to the bed. He took his cover and pulled it over his eyes as he laid on the bed and attempted to watch television. He was likely just about to doze off again when he saw Mac come out of the bathroom. As she dried herself off and proceeded to pull up a pair of red lace boy shorts he couldn't help but smile. "Well, if that sight isn't proof of the divine, I don't know what is." He commented as she slid the lace firmly in place over her hips. He got up off the bed and pulled the belt and sword securely around his waist. She looked up and saw the array of medals that adorned his chest. For some reason, even though she was herself a Marine, she always found the Bronze and Silver star medals on his chest to be particularly alluring.

He wrapped his arms around her and settled her in against his chest. "We have to get to the Cathedral." Mac reminded.

"It's 0530, the wedding doesn't start until 1300." Nate told her. "You're showered, I know that you can be ready to be just about any where in eight minutes." She couldn't help but smile at him.

"Uh huh, and how much of this has to do with the fact that I'm nearly naked." She put him on the spot, she loved watching him squirm.

"I...uh...I..." He stammered. She reached up and plucked his white cover off his head before sliding it on her own. She stepped back and folded her arms in front of her breasts giving him sultry look.

"You what, Marine?" She practically breathed out.

"I may need a cold shower." He choked out.

"Well, we definitely don't have time for that." She smiled. "So how about the next best thing?" She took two steps and was on him. Her right hand came up to the hair on the back of his head and yanked his head down for a heated kiss. Taken momentarily by surprise, he soon recovered and took her in his arms. She loved the feeling of those big warm hands opening up on her back. It caused her to gasp when he did it but she soon regained her control. After a few more seconds, she stepped back. "Now are you going to be able to let me get dressed or am I going to have to kick you out?" She questioned.

"I'll be good." He nodded enthusiastically and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

1521 ZULU

CATHEDRAL OF THE NAVY

ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

Mac and Harm stood down in the rectory of the church with the Navy's ranking Presbyterian chaplain. "Any idea where the Admiral is?" Harm asked, watching as Harriet directed several volunteers in decorating the main aisle of the Cathedral.

"With his soon to be in-laws." Mac answered in a whisper. "If I had to bet, I'd say wherever the Admiral, the General, Nate and the rest of their Marine Corps brood are at the moment, the General is ominously running a stone over the sharp edge of his dress uniform sword."

"They hate him that much?" Harm questioned disbelievingly.

"Nah, they just believe that they're doing their duty." Mac began to explain. "Once he's actually in the family, he's in there for good. He's a Ross as much as they are at that point."

"As much as you are?" Harm questioned almost on instinct.

"I don't think...that they really..." Mac tried to form her sentence.

"Yes, they do." Harm assured her. "After seeing you with them this morning. You're one of them. You were right when you said that Beverley and Anna treat you like a sister. You forgot to mention the fact that their mother treats you like a daughter."

"I'm always worried that Eileen is psycho-analyzing me, that she's got me under some great magnifying glass of scrutiny under which all my flaws and foibles will just be amplified." Mac nervously played with her hands. "She's apparently been really hard on a lot of his girlfriends in the past and it kind of worries me that we get along so well."

"Waiting for the other shoe to drop?" Harm chuckled as the volunteers continued their work.

"In a way." Mac looked up the aisle. She let the silence hang heavily for a few seconds. "It's tough to believe that the Admiral's getting married. I never figured he'd be first."

"Well, he wasn't technically." Harm pointed out. "Bud and Harriet were."

"Yeah, but it seems like Bud and Harriet have been married forever. I can't really remember much from a time when they weren't together. Like I have memories of the two of us from way back then, the Connors court martial and stuff like that but I don't have a lot of memories of Bud from before he met Harriet." Mac smiled as she and Harm walked out of the church on to the steps out front.

"Well there was the Magida 'court martial' in the Admiral's office where he was the judge." Harm remembered with a fond expression.

"Yeah." Mac nodded. "And me calling you two while you were flying to tell you about Tess McKee's accident."

"That one too." Harm grinned. "He loves Sarah almost as much as I do." There was a pause and Mac turned sideways. Even Harm had to think for a second and remember that he was talking about the damn plane. A warm look grew deep in Mac's eyes and she smiled.

"He looked like a kid in a candy store." She chuckled and leaned against the railing at the side of the steps. "So where's Skates?"

"Tried to wake her up this morning, she reminded me that she didn't have to be up yet and that she rarely gets the chance to sleep in." Harm laughed. "She's right."

"Yeah. I'm amazed Harriet hasn't tried to enlist our help in there." Mac commented as the two of them basked in the wonderful cloudless blue sky.

"Speak for yourself, I've been strategically keeping out of her line of sight all morning." Harm joked. The two of them watched a couple familiar forms come jogging up in front of the church.

"You need to tie that thing!" Chloe protested as Billy guarded the untied bow tie on his tuxedo.

"Bow ties are for the Navy." Billy replied as he shook his head.

"Then come to attention, Marine." Mac called jokingly but sure enough the boy snapped to. "What's all the commotion, Chloe?"

"The football star over here refuses to tie his tie!" Chloe shot accusingly at her male counterpart.

"It's not that I refuse to tie it." Billy fired back. "You tied it too tightly. First off, it's not supposed to choke you. Second, it's supposed to be loose enough that you can pull it free and let it hang at the end of the night, kind of like Tony Bennett. At least that's what Uncle Nate says."

"Yeah, well more than you bow-tie is keeping you from being Tony Bennett." Chloe jousted sarcastically.

"Yeah, well your Uncle wouldn't know." Mac reached forward and proceeded to tie the boy's tie. "I'm the one who ties his bow-tie on black tie occasions."

"Ha ha." Chloe taunted and once Mac was finished tying his tie. The two of them continued to argue as they headed into the church. After a few seconds of watching the two kids, Mac and Harm returned to their conversation.

"Well, they fight like cats and dogs." Mac joked.

Harm did a double take for a second at the phrasing before giving his head a shake. "I don't know, I sensed there might have been a little spark there."

"Between those two?" Mac gave an unimpressed look ."Nah. Chloe's a bit too much like me. Where she grew up, what she went through. It's had to make her tough. It gives her a low tolerance for BS. Billy's an All-American, he's got a strong male role model to look up to even though his father's an idiot. His family's done the best it can to make his life about school and football and shield him from the outside stuff. He's meant to be the popular kid, the football star and later an Academy standout and Marine Corps officer. He's a little too..."

Harm wanted to say 'much like me' but he figured that his experiences with his father prevented the two situations from being that analogous. "What? Spoiled? Sheltered? Pampered?"

"No, he's too programmed." Mac answered. "I don't think the boy enjoys the challenge of women who don't fall at his feet. Girls like Chloe, even me, because we didn't always grow up looking like the typical princess, we don't just assume the men fall in love with us. We have to know, clearly and definitively because we've never had the luxury of taking that emotion for granted. He doesn't seem the type, at least not yet, to want to work that hard at that part of his life. But he's a great kid nonetheless."

"I have trouble seeing you as an ugly duckling, even as a teenager, Mac." Harm answered.

"It's true." Mac protested. "My hair was always a mess, my clothes were in tatters most of the time, I had acne, I was always trying to hide my boobs so I wore oversized clothes. I had absolutely no confidence in myself. It was finally getting away from my father and getting out of the bottle that finally helped me begin to find a sense of myself."

Harm could only nod. It seemed the only reasonable thing to do at this moment. He was gaining a deeper understanding of Sarah MacKenzie, oh cruel irony that this deeper understanding came when it was just too late. But that was the story of their relationship. "Come on." He said. "Let's go inside and stop hiding from Harriet."

1707 ZULU

CATHEDRAL OF THE NAVY

ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

The church was beginning to fill. They were preparing for the 1300 start time for the wedding. Downstairs, Mac and Harm were trying to field general the pre-matrimonial issues while Harriet was in command from her station near the choir at the front of the Cathedral. Thus far, most of the guests had been calmly moved toward either the bride or groom's side of the Cathedral. Upon seeing the amount of Marine Uniforms, Harm joked that with the number of Marines in the building, should Annapolis be attacked by the enemy it would be more than adequately defended.

When a raucous group of Royal Marines entered the Cathedral. Harm and Mac were the first two to respond. "Oh, well who are you?" The ranking Royal Marine eyed Mac appreciatively.

"I'm a bridesmaid." Mac answered, not wanting to give her name.

"And I'm the best man." Harm protectively cut in. "Who are you?"

"Leftenant Colonel Jonathan Hendley-Ross, sir." The Colonel noted Harm's shoulder-boards. "Her Majesty's Royal Marines. Here to attend the wedding of our cousin Beverley Ross to some Admiral Chuggawagga."

"That's Chegwidden." Harm corrected. "And you say that you all are Ross cousins?"

"Quite true." Jonathan nodded. Harm fixed a menacing smile across his face.

"Oh, Nate!" Harm called as he turned around and watched as the familiar face of the Marine Lieutenant Colonel turned United States Senator popped out of the crowd. Nate's almost immediate eye roll complete with 'oh Jesus, I need a gun' expression made it worth it just to call him over.

"Nathan! Jolly good too see you, cousin." The ranking Royal Marine wrapped his arm around Nate's shoulders and Nate forced a smile to his lips. Harm moved away from the scene to attend to the guests who had arrived in the time he had spent with the English Ross cousins. Mac stuck around for a few seconds until Billy showed up, just to make sure Nate wasn't being abandoned to torment. Once Billy got there, Nate breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright, kid, here's your task for the day." Nate put his hands on Billy's shoulders. "Seat them near the family, keep an eye on them and keep them under control."

"What do you mean keep them under control?" Billy asked, slightly weary.

"Keep them from drinking, keep them from shouting obscenities or trying to hit on any woman who looks to be under twenty-one years of age. If you need reinforcements, grab your grandfather." Nate gave the kid a pat on the back and dashed off toward the bridal suite.

"Aye, sir." Billy gulped and tried to corral the cousins. "Okay, all of you follow me." Billy instructed and humoured by the young man's attempt to guide them, the Ross Royal Marines did follow him toward their seats.

Nate tapped on the door to the bridal suite and upon announcing himself was permitted entrance. "You invited the crazy cousins?" Nate questioned as he walked into the suite.

"Of course, they're family." Beverley answered. "Why, what did you do to them?"

"Harm and I locked them in the landscaper's shed." Nate gave a deadpan answer.

"Nathan!" Eileen Ross turned on her son.

"Don't worry, Ma." Nate waved his mother off. "I put Billy in charge of them and told him to call dad if he needs back up. They're probably being seated as we speak." Then Beverley got up from her chair and turned to face her brother. When she did this, Nate couldn't help but smile. "You look wonderful, sis. For once, I might have to cede my title as luckiest man in the room to AJ."

"How does he look?" Beverley asked nervously.

"Scared, I think Dad finally got to him." Nate joked. "No, you know that demeanour AJ has. He's got that look of fused impatience and bemusement on his face. I take that to mean either that he wants 1300 hours to be here in the next five minutes or Harm did something to annoy him."

"Both could be true." Mac said as she entered the bridal suite. "We're down to the final ten minutes. Wow, Bev, you're gorgeous." Mac stopped dead in her place. "I hope I'm not expected to live up to that when my turn comes."

"You will, Sarah." Nate turned to face her. "Of that I am more than sure."

"Alright, people, let's get this wedding on the road." General Jack walked into the room, smacking his palms together.

"Dear, this is a wedding, not an incursion to pacify a small VC held village outside Da Nang." Eileen tossed her husband a sideways glance.

"Wait, if you're here, who's helping Billy control the soccer hooligans?" Nate looked to his father.

"I stuck your uncles Ben and Julius with them. Don't worry, Nathan, the boy is not without back up." The General answered, Nate just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I'd better get down there before the lot of them turn a fifteen year old All American into a drunk." Nate headed out of the bridal suite and downstairs back into the main area of the church. That left Mac standing with the General, Eileen, Anna and Beverley. She smiled politely before ducking out of the suite and heading down to the rectory again. There, she waited with Beverley's other bridesmaid, Harm, Bud and Lieutenant Sherkson. Up front, she watched Nate and Billy try to keep the rowdy Royal Marines in line while Chloe sat on the groom's side of the church with Harriet and Little AJ. At the front of the church with the Reverend stood the Admiral, looking just as Nate had described. He was staring down at his feet and every few seconds, exhaling heavily.

Eventually, the organ music that had been playing while the guests filed in wound down and the ceremony began. Lieutenant Sherkson and Beverley's other bridesmaid were the first grouping up the aisle. After them came Mac and Bud. Then last up the aisle before Beverley and her father made their appearance were Harm as the best man and Anna as the maid of honour. Finally, the organ cued up its familiar refrain and all the eyes zoomed to the back of the church. Even the Admiral looked speechless as he watched his soon to be wife glide down the aisle. Harm was tempted to elbow him in the side to jump-start his breathing before thinking twice about elbowing a superior officer.

For Harm, standing next to the groom at a wedding was always something of a surreal experience, almost doubly so when Mac was standing opposite in the bridal party. A traditional Presbyterian service was conducted in accordance with the Reverend's faith. Normally, in this circumstance, Harm's eyes would be focused on Mac. On the soft curves of her hips, the luscious form of her lips, the pulsating depth of her eyes, just about anything that could captivate him for an hour or so. But there seemed something rather wrong about traipsing so willingly upon Mac's relationship like that this time. This wedding, or at least getting through it, might be tougher than he figured it would be. Listening to words, even well crafted ones about love, companionship, understanding and all that kind of jazz just left him shaking his head.

He managed to square himself away in time to do the arch at the end of the ceremony. As best man, he led the officers in performing their function and he even managed a genuine flyboy smile when he had to swat the newly minted Mrs. Chegwidden across the butt with his sword and offer a customary "Go Navy!" He found Skates as the church began to clear out and they proceeded over to the Officer's Club to enjoy the reception.

2011 ZULU

USNA OFFICER'S CLUB

ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

Moving 400 people across campus proved a more arduous task than previously thought but most of the guests were in by the time. An open bar through an archway near the back of the main events room magnetized the visiting Brits. A bartender was a more natural babysitter for their unruly behaviour than was a fifteen year-old who would be largely defenseless or the General's brothers who would be largely complicit.

At the head table sat the bride and groom. On the groom's side sat Harm, Bud and Harriet, Lieutenant Sherkson and his wife. On the bride's side sat Anna, Mac and Nate, the choir director from Beverley's congregation and her husband. The reception was executed with Swiss watch precision. Meals were delivered, champagne was poured, the whole thing was incredibly well choreographed. Mac kept her eyes trained down on what she called "the fun table" where sat Sergei Rabb, Mikey Roberts, Gunny, Tiner, Chloe, Billy, Sturgis and Bobby. She was glad that the Admiral and Beverley had both resisted the temptation to condemn the two teenagers to kiddie corner.

Chloe was growing up so fast into such a mature and composed young woman. It was amazing how being in Vermont and having some stability and helped her mature. Nothing could erase the early part of her life, she'd still carry that forever but Mac knew that Chloe was undoubtedly thriving in her new environment and she knew how much she would have wished for a place like that when she was Chloe's age. She watched though as Chloe edged closer to Billy's side as the young man found himself wrapped in conversation with Sergei Rabb and Mikey Roberts.

She knew trouble when she saw it. It was obvious to her this morning that while nothing sexual had necessarily happened between Chloe and Billy last night, they had obviously failed to heed her advice about going straight to bed and instead had spent the night talking. Danger, danger, danger. Mac knew Billy Ross was a special kid, he'd spent his life idolizing and modeling himself after his uncle, trying to achieve the same quiet confidence and frustrating sense of moral clarity. Heck, in his tuxedo, he probably even looked a little bit like Nate had at his age. Some familial resemblance was inevitable after all. But she knew that look, that look a girl got when she finds out how incredible some guy really is.

She shook her head. Billy Ross had Mikey Roberts on the edge of his seat as he told the tale of Friday's game against McNamara. For Mikey Roberts, High School wasn't that long ago and Mac knew that he likely would have given just about anything to be Billy Ross when he was there. Ross men and Rabb men had that kind of air about them. When they walked in, they commanded a room. They drew attention and knew how to project charisma, confidence and most of all, power. It was like they were born to do it, Sergei's English had progressed well under Anna's tutelage and even through the fumbles with the language he'd already managed to flirt with three of the catering servers.

As the time for the toasts approached, everyone looked to Harm for the traditional toast from the best man. Mac wanted to hear what Harm had to say. The illustrious Rabb thoughts on love, on life, on all of it. Bud's wedding had been a little different. He was just coming off his break-up with Annie and the proceedings that day were beautiful but once they got the boys bailed out of jail and once they got Harriet out of the bridal suite, the day had been as sugary sweet as a trip to Candyland. This was different. Somehow it seemed like there were more raw, exposed nerves at this wedding. More static electricity in the air and she wanted to see how he reacted to it.

Harm got up and cleared his throat. "I've known the Admiral for something like eight years." Harm started. "I've worked with him, I've laughed with him, I've grieved with him and even fought alongside him." He laughed. "And I'm sure if he was given the opportunity tonight, he'd tell you that I've even locked horns with him. I've been a pain in his proverbial butt since he became my CO but in that time he's been a trusted friend and advisor to me. A person I could always depend on when I needed him. When he asked me to stand as his best man I was flattered. When I first heard that he was marrying Beverley, I knew he finally had the kind of person that I think every man looks for. A person capable of either overlooking your faults or loving you in spite of them." This line got some laughs. "A person who'll stand by you, in tough times and easy times and times when just about everyone else is willing to call you crazy." Suddenly images of Russia and Chechnya, of the cursed Howlers squadron and the Sudanese embassy flashed through Harm's mind. "A person who loves you, who wants to wake up to you every morning. Even the mornings when you look...shall we say, less than graceful."

Harm swallowed the depth charge sized lump in his throat and stared back at the bar. He made a mental drink order for later. "I tried to think of an appropriate quote or anecdote for this moment. I know the Admiral...AJ's affinity for Shakespeare and I figured that I could draw off that endless wellspring of material but knowing him as I do, the Admiral would likely find some flaw in the quote and tell me I'd used a poor translation out of the Old English." Another line that received some laughs. "I figured maybe I should quote a rock song, but it seemed a little below the classy tone that AJ and Beverley set for this occasion with their vows at the church. So, I'll do what I do best and shoot from the hip. There are times when I've thought I knew what love was. I think until you've truly experienced that one great undying love in your life, that one moment where you know a person commands a certain part of your soul, carves their own niche in a little corner of your heart, you only really experience love in thumbnails and soundbites. It's a Valentines Day here, or a starlit night there; it's a bad fight and a heated reconciliation. It's never quite all the joy you want it to be, and never quite all the pain it has to be. Without the right person, it is doomed to remain an incomplete experience. With the right person, it is an experience so all consuming, that it sets you aflame. So endearing that leaves a permanent scar. So empowering, that everything seems possible." Harm licked his lips and raised his glass. "At least that's what I think." He raised his glass and turned to face the Admiral and Beverley, he cast a secondary glance at Mac before returning to the happy couple. "To a complete experience."

"Hear, hear." Every voice in the room resounded and the toast was had. The Admiral got up and gave Harm a hearty handshake before pulling him into a quick bear hug. "You did good, Captain."

"Thank you, sir." Harm smiled and returned to his seat. Everyone finished what remained on their plate before turning to the dance floor or the bar as their particular motives would dictate. The first dance was of course shared by AJ and Beverley. That was when Nate and his father got to present their wedding present as between the two of them, they'd pulled an inconceivable number of strings to bring in Tony Bennett for the reception. So, the newly anointed Chegwiddens were able to dance their first as a married couple to the wistful strains of _It Had to Be You_ performed live. Nate held Mac in his arms, her back flat against his chest as they stood off to the side and watched the dance. So often at weddings Mac had been left to wonder, would it be her next? Would it be her ever? Now, she didn't wonder. The way he held her told her.

The music ended and the dance floor filled up as the next song commenced. The Admiral and Beverley walked over to where the bridal party stood. "That was some gift, Senator, thank you." AJ smiled.

"No problem, AJ." Nate shook his hand. "Welcome to the family."

"I have some news for all of you as well." The Admiral grew a menacing smile. "Our Two Colonels here are about to become the Marine Corps' newest poster people, along with the Gunny." The Admiral stated. "The SECNAV called me on Monday and requested Colonel MacKenzie and Gunnery Sergeant Galindez for the newest Marine Corps recruiting campaign and I agreed."

"Why us, sir?" Mac inquired.

"Because you were requested personally by the director of the commercial in question." The Admiral's smile grew to almost Grinch-like proportions.

"Sir, don't tell me..." Mac warned.

"That's right, Miss Peterson has returned." The Admiral answered. "She'll be in touch this week. As for you, Captain." The Admiral turned to Harm. "The dispute between COMNAVAIRLANT and COMNAVAIRPAC has been won by COMNAVAIRLANT. However, a new dispute has sprung up between that service and the Joint Chiefs who want you as their Staff Judge Advocate. I told the Chiefs your designator was that of an aviator and they told me that you arguably argued more high profile and sensitive incidents in one tour on the Nimitz than you did in any four month period at JAG. So, until I'm back from my honeymoon, you're the Acting JAG. Hopefully, they'll have your next assignment for you."

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded.

"Good, now that that's settled, I'm ordering you all to enjoy yourselves." The Admiral moved on and the party was left standing there.

Mac looked at Nate. "No drinking tonight if you want to kiss me later."

"Ah, but honey." Nate protested.

"Nathan." Mac gave him a serious look and he nodded.

"Whipped." Harm commented and Nate just laughed. Nate guided Mac out on to the dance floor which sent Harm off in search of Skates.

"You look absolutely goddamn amazing." He grinned as he held Mac in his arms. "I am going to send Harriet a new car for putting you in this dress. I swear, I'm gonna peel this of you with my teeth when we get back to the hotel."

"Those uniform pants getting a little tight there, Colonel?" Mac joked as they moved around the dance floor. Mac's eyes scanned the room. Sergei was dancing with Anna, there was no doubt that Harm was gonna catch on to that himself a little later. Mikey Roberts seemed to be a hit with some of the single women at the reception. It was hard for her to see a Roberts as a player, they just seemed too well-meaning but Mikey was doing his best impression of one as he held court near the bar. Then there was Chloe, she'd gotten the first dance with Billy, who seemed to have his attention just about everywhere else. Mac tapped Nate on the shoulder and pointed over in that direction.

"You want me to have a talk with him?" Nate asked.

"No." Mac shook her head lightly. "He's a kid, leave him be. They all make mistakes."

"He's a teenage boy, at that age life is basically governed by the shit happens principle." Nate commented. "I really can't just have a tumbler of whiskey with my old man and drink to my sister's wedding."

"I never said you couldn't drink, it's your body not mine. I just said that if you drink, you don't get to kiss me." Mac commented with an innocent look in her eye. "And something tells me, Marine, that you want to do a lot more than just kiss me later."

"Goddamn, if you weren't so absolutely worthy it." He leaned in and kissed her on the lips softly.

Across the room, as another song cued up, Skates and Harm were moving around the open dance floor. "You know how hard it's going to be for me to get hit on by some of these cute Marines if you're the only person I dance with all night?

"Alright, good point." Harm admitted.

"Why don't you just talk to her, Harm? It's not a tough skill to master." Skates offered. "Seriously, Harm, I'm still a little angry at my ex and I'd kind of like one of these stud Marines to make a play for me. So, at the end of this song, how about you go talk to Mac and I get to hear some Marine tell me how gorgeous I look in this dress and how much better it would look on his hotel room floor."

"You do look gorgeous, Skates." Harm told her honestly.

"Thanks, Harm." Skates lightly gave a pat to Harm's shoulder. The music slowly faded out and the two of them separated.

"Now, you get in there." Harm pointed her at the cluster of Marines. "They don't stand a chance against the Navy, right, Skates?"

"Yes, sir." Skates grinned and walked over to them. Harm smiled for a second and walked over to the table where Nate and Mac were taking a rest.

"You two all tired out?" Harm joked as he stood next to the table.

"Just wanting to enjoy the music without being expected to perform some fancy footwork." Nate answered.

"Nate!" They all heard Nicole DiPiccio shout as she made her way across the hall.

"Well, so much for that fucking idea." Nate commented absently. "What's up, Peach?"

"Do you know what your nephew did?" Nicole stood over him, hands firmly fixed on her hips.

"No clue." Nate grinned.

"He grabbed my ass." She informed Nate who strained to restrain his initial laugh. "This isn't funny." Nate shook his head and waved Billy on over.

"What happened?" Nate looked at Nicole.

"He came over, he asked me to dance. I figured it would be sweet, ya know, because I've known him since he was a little guy." Nicole began to explain. "So, we started dancing and..."

"He gave into his inner Marine, I'm so proud." Nate joked with a fond smile.

"Nathan, this is nowhere close to funny." Peach gave him a stern look. She heard Harm restrain a snort of laughter and tossed him the same look.

"Come on, if you don't think this is a little bit funny, you need to seriously pull the stick out of your ass." Nate shook his head an Billy finally joined them. "Did you grab her ass?" Nate asked his nephew.

"Well, yeah..." Billy started but Nate cut him off before he could get to the excuse.

"Apologize." Nate instructed and he watched as Billy turned to Nicole.

"I'm sorry." Billy hung his head.

"Accepted." Nicole stated simply.

"Anything else, Uncle Nate?" Billy looked at his favourite Uncle.

"Yeah, we're gonna have a long talk about this on the golf course tomorrow." Nate told him and waved Billy off. "Go have fun." Billy slunk off across the floor to the other side and Nate looked up at Nicole. "Happy now?"

"No, can I talk to you in private for a second?" She asked. Nate looked to Mac who shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." He kissed Mac on the cheek and walked out of the main room and out on to the terrace with Nicole. Inside the ballroom, Harm looked at Mac and both smiled nervously.

"You wanna dance?" Harm offered.

"We always do seem to at these things." Mac got up from the chair and took Harm's hand. "Seen any random hook-ups yet?"

"Not yet." Harm shook his head. "The Admiral and Beverley really do look good together though."

"Yeah, I hope one day I'm that happy." Mac smiled fondly.

"I have no trouble imagining that one day you will be." Harm whispered shyly and Mac looked up into his eyes. She could remember a time when it had been so easy to get lost in their tempestuous sea of green and grey.

"Sergei and Anna seem to be getting close." Mac commented to change the subject.

"He says they're just friends." Harm answered.

"Aren't they all?" Mac quipped.

"Chloe seems to have a thing for Billy." Harm tried her tactic.

"Yeah, there's something about a Ross." Mac commented almost absently. "They can be frustrating, careless and a host of other things that should irritate the living hell out of you. But that reckless sense of humour, that stupid grin or that unflinching loyalty or just about any other trait pulls you back under."

"I like to think I've got some of those traits." Harm got a little stiff.

"You do." Mac told him. "Which is why the two of you have some real similarities. You remember when you told me that Brumby once told you and Bud and the Admiral that every man I knew was just a little bit in love with me?"

"Yeah." Harm nodded

"I think it works the same with you and Nate and the women in your lives." Mac theorized aloud. "I've noticed it lately with Nate when it comes to Lily and Nicole but I've noticed it with you in the past when it comes to female defendants or past girlfriends or even Harriet and Skates."

"Harriet?" Harm raised a curious eyebrow.

"In the same way that Mic thought Bud was with me probably." Mac tried to explain. "It's not a bad thing. It's probably just a reaction to your character, it's not something you can control."

"So, don't you worry when he goes off with Nicole to talk like that?" Harm questioned.

"Maybe back when we started dating." Mac answered. "But now, no."

"Because?" Harm wondered.

"I know he's mine." She answered. "I just know."

Outside on the terrace, Nate was beginning to pace as Nicole leaned back against the closed doors. "What do you want?"

"Your cousins say you're getting married." Nicole offered. "Is it true."

"Gonna be soon." Nate answered. "Sarah and I have been talking about it and I love her more than just about anything else on the planet."

"Does she love you?" Nicole stepped toward him. "The real you, not the you that you want everyone else to see. The guy that listened to _Tunnel of Love_ on an endless loop after you got divorced. Not the guy who goes all bravado and tells people that _Born to Run_ is your favourite album."

"Yes, she does." Nate crossed his arms. "And I'm starting to resent the hell out of this conversation."

"I just never thought I'd see you get engaged." Nicole shook her head.

"Yeah, I don't think you ever gave me the credit I deserved in my personal life." Nate shot a sarcastic smirk. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go back in there and tell Mac about Christmas."

"Yeah, whatever." Nicole stepped aside to allow him back into the main room. Nate waited for the song to come to an end before walking up to Mac's side.

"Hey, sweetheart." He kissed her cheek. "Y'ever been to Niagara Falls?"

"Canada?" Mac questioned.

"Oh yeah, you go up there right before Christmas. Snow covers the city, it's kind of Dickensian." Nate whispered in her ear as he held her in his arms.

"Aren't there casinos up there?" Mac questioned.

"Okay, so it's Dickens if Dickens did Atlantic City." Nate joked and they shared a laugh. "But I called in a favour up there and got us the best room in the city over your Christmas leave. We can go, catch a show in the resorts, walk in the snow, and make a few Christmas memories all our own. What do you say?"

"I say...Merry Christmas." Mac smiled and kissed him sweetly on the lips. "Just for my own curiosity though, is there a city in the world where you don't have connections?"

"I'll never tell." Nate smiled and kissed her again.


	20. Into the Fire Part 1

_A/N: This chapter was incredibly tough for me to write. When you get to the end, you'll know why._

It had been a full six weeks since the Admiral's wedding. It was December 15th, the last day of shooting for the Marine Corps' latest recruiting commercial. The Admiral's last act before leaving for his honeymoon have been to recommend Bud for accelerated promotion to Lieutenant Commander but the O-4 board hadn't been convened yet. While, Harm was the JAG, he'd sent Bud, Sturgis and Captain Ramirez out on investigations but because Mac was assigned to shoot the commercial part time, she had to be kept close to DC. It was odd but the two weeks he'd spent in the Admiral's chair had really given Harm a sense of perspective on the path he wanted his career to take as it moved forward.

Mac and Nate were spending part of their workdays together and all of their evenings together. It did kind of wear on her a bit. Well, it wasn't so much him that was wearing on her as all the attention Renee Peterson seemed to be focusing on him on set. He was her centerpiece for this commercial. The tall, handsome, intelligent Marine turned politician. He was a real raw for the general audience. Mac was his balance, she was sexy and intelligent but still endowed with the same kind of Marine intensity. Another officer and a lawyer this time, more proof that the Marine Corps was a career for everyone regardless of gender or education level. Then there was the Gunny, a recruiting poster boy fro the largest growing ethnic demographic in the country. A decorated Hispanic Marine, multiple tours of duty, trained in special ops. For Renee Peterson, this was a real cast of characters.

"Alright people, that's a wrap!" Renee cheered as they finished the final step in the process. "Larry get everyone in here, I want them to see the first airing of the Marine Corps' latest recruiting commercial."

Renee's production assistant headed into the green room and told everyone that Renee was ready to air the commercial for the first time. Mac, Nate and Gunny walked into the director's suite and Renee looked to her editor to cue up the commercial.

The commercial opened in front of the Marine Corps War Memorial with Nate in profile before he turned to look at the camera. "Ted Williams said the Marine Corps was the greatest team he ever played on." The camera panned out to capture the entire Iwo Jima statue before zooming in on Nate. "I know it's the greatest team I've ever played for. The Marine Corps gave me two careers, first as a sniper and then as a diplomat."

Mac entered the frame from Nate's left. "I've been a Marine since I was nineteen. I've served my country in Bosnia and the Marines put me through law school. Now I serve my country and justice as a member of the Judge Advocate General's Corps."

Gunny entered the frame. "In Force Recon, the JAG Corps, Intelligence or Aviation, the Marines have a career for everyone. Marines have served this country in every conflict since 1775. The Marine Corps had a career for me..."

"And for me..." Nate's face appeared on the screen.

"And for me. So, come play on my team." Mac grinned.

"Come play on my team." Gunny's face was the next before the camera panned out to show the three of them, sunset glinting off the Iwo Jima Memorial in the background.

"Join the Marines. The Few, the proud." Nate's voice was the last one to cut through. "Come play on our team." The screen went dark and Renee turned with a smile to face the crowd behind her.

"So, what do we think?" Renee turned to face the crowd and a collection of generally impressed faces.

"Not bad." Nate nodded.

"I'm impressed, Renee." Mac was smiling. "I'm really impressed."

"You think the Secretary of the Navy will like it?" Renee questioned. Her mouth began to ramble. "Because I like it, I really like the lighting and the backdrop is perfect, even the line-reading. You guys weren't wooden in your delivery at all."

"Renee, it's fine." Mac tried to calm her down.

"Yeah, I liked it, Miss Peterson." Gunny complimented.

"And if the Secretary doesn't like it, that's too bad for him. I'm not re-shooting this damn thing and as a Senator, I control the Navy's appropriations." Nate smiled. "I like it, I don't see anything wrong with it." Nate yawned. "I do want to go home though." He leaned in and kissed Mac on the cheek. "You wanna go?"

"Yeah, go fire up the car, I'll be out there in a second." Mac smiled at him. "I've just gotta grab my cover from the green room." Nate smiled and headed out into the parking lot. Mac headed over to the green room and Renee ran to keep up with her.

"Hey Mac, wait up." Renee stepped into the green room with her. "So, uh, the Senator, huh?"

"Yeah." Mac was cautious.

"What happened with Harm?" Renee hesitantly asked. "I mean, if you don't mind, it just seemed like the two of you had great chemistry back when..."

"Yeah, well..." Mac shook her head. "Listen, I don't know what I'm supposed to say here."

"I just..." Renee shook her head as well. "I don't know, as much as I loved Harm and I hated him for... a lot of what I thought was and wasn't going on with you, the guy does deserve to be happy. And I am kind of jealous, admittedly."

"Well, what happened with your mortician that Harm told me about?" Mac picked up her cover but couldn't bring herself to extricate herself from this conversation.

"Hasty relationships have hasty endings." Renee answered simply. "But you...I mean, Mic Brumby wasn't big league ball but he wasn't a bad guy. Harmon Rabb and now a Senator, Marine Corps poster boy. You certainly do get them."

"What's your point, Renee?" Mac's inquiry going from curious to terse.

"You know what? I don't know." Renee shook her head. "I'll see you at the release party." Mac nodded slowly and she walked away. She got out to the car and Nate was reclined in the driver's seat waiting on Mac.

"You ready to go home? Mac climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Yeah." Nate re-set the seat and started the engine.

"You're still going out to Iowa and South Carolina tomorrow and the next day right?" Mac questioned as the lights of DC flew past.

"Iowa votes in a month." Nate commented, without taking his eyes off the road. "I'm headed out there to help the Bartlet people after I do that appearance with Gunny at NROTC on the George Washington University campus as part of this recruiting drive. Are you sure you still can't go to that?"

"I've got court just about all day tomorrow." Mac frowned. "You'll swing by my office before you leave for Iowa tomorrow."

"I'll leave ya a note if I miss you." He kissed her on the cheek as they stopped in front of her building and headed inside.

"Do you really gotta go to South Carolina, too?" Mac pouted as they walked up the steps to her apartment.

"Yeah, but I'll be back on the 17th, on the 18th I close the Senate offices for the Holidays and then on the 19th, it's you and I and a Niagara Falls Hotel room." Nate wrapped her in his arms as they entered her apartment. "Alright."

"You realize that your mom wants us back down here for the day after Christmas right, just so that we can make it to their house for your Family Christmas, right?" Mac instructed. "That means, no extending our stay just because you happen to enjoy me and our hotel room, okay?"

"Ahhhh." Nate couldn't help but smile."You might be the death of me, you know that?"

"You're tough, Marine, you can handle it." Mac smiled as they walked into the bedroom. "You'd better enjoy this bed tonight, tomorrow you're stuck with some stiff motel rack that's probably collected more germs than a high school petri dish."

"When I go away, Sarah, it's never the bed that I miss." He kissed her cheek as he held her. "It's you." For that moment, no witty retort was needed. She just stroked his arms and let her head fall back against his chest.

1344 ZULU

RUSSELL SENATE OFFICE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

"You really have to do this NROTC thing today?" Sam walked into Nate's office. "I mean, seriously, you call the SECNAV, you tell him you'll do it after Christmas when the ad is actually on TV. That way, you get out to Iowa today, you do a full schedule of events with Governor Bartlet, you go to South Carolina tomorrow, do your events there and then you take holidays."

"Sam, I'm doing the NROTC thing, alright?" Nate looked up in exasperation. "We're already short Mac for the event today but she has a good excuse, she's on active duty. If I skip an NROTC event to go out campaigning, I'll become the Fox News poster boy for wimpy weekend warrior liberals."

"Okay, good point." Sam admitted with a shrug. "This Marine Corps recruiting commercial is gonna do wonders for your numbers at the start of next year." Sam sat down across from Nate.

"I thought you said that my re-election in Virginia was a mortal lock?" Nate leaned back in his chair.

"It is." Sam leaned forward. "I'm talking bigger than Virginia. Right now, Bartlet and Hoynes are neck and neck in Iowa and Governor Bartlet is miles ahead in New Hampshire. Then between the help you and Bobbi Latham are are giving him in South Carolina in the African-American community, the Governor could foreseeably take the first three primaries. If that happens, they take some momentum into the Michigan primary. Then we've got Super Tuesday, they're hoping to score big across the industrial Midwest and Pacific Northwest, open up a big lead on Hoynes. Then, once they get over the 2,162 breaking point, they start doing their VP homework."

"So?" Nate shrugged.

"Josh tells me they're already doing their VP vetting, they want one guy." Sam stated simply. Nate leaned forward to show his interest. "They want you."

"Vice President of the United States?" Nate questioned, the amazement evident in his voice.

"Well, you'd have to win an election first." Sam laughed. "But you'd be the Democratic Party's nominee for Vice President, yeah. Sets you up as the Party's consensus nominee in four or eight years."

Nate leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "All those times at the frat house, Sam, you ever figure we'd be here?"

"You mean a few well placed political moves from the Vice Presidency?" Sam offered. "Nah, when I met you, that one mixer where you showed up in your Class As before the year started. I figured you were gonna be a Marine until they forced you out."

"Yeah, well you were always destined for this kind of work." Nate assured him. "Just glad you took me along for the ride."

Just then the intercom buzzed, putting an end to the mutual admiration society. "Senator, a Captain Rabb is here to see you."

"Show him in, Betty." Nate answered and got up out of his chair. "I'll talk to you when I meet up with you at the airport later, okay Sam?"

"Yeah, buddy." Sam got up and headed for the office door just as Harm was walking in.

"Harm, what can I do for you?" Nate motioned for Harm to take a seat.

"Well, you know how my career's become something of a tug of war between COMNAVAIRLANT and the Joint Chiefs lately, right?" Harm offered as he sat.

"Yeah, the Chiefs want you as their staff JAG." Nate nodded.

"Right, well, do you know Admiral Fitzwallace or does he know your old man?" Harm questioned.

"Yeah, Fitz was the weapons officer on an Amphib where my dad was the Marine commander back in the late 70s." Nate answered with an inquisitive look. "What do you want me to talk to him about."

"Well, as much as I like Washington, it just doesn't seem like there's anything here for me any more." Harm started to explain. "So, if you could, do you think you could talk to him about dropping the whole staff JAG thing?"

"Sure, but I think you're making a mistake, Harm." Nate leaned over the desk. "Admiral Ingles and I could get the Pentagon to overlook your trap count and flying hours once but they're not gonna flag you on schedule and that'll be to make a point. As a JAG, especially as the Staff Judge Advocate for the Joint Chiefs, you'd be the next in line to sit in the big chair whenever AJ retires."

"My mistake to make though, right?" Harm gripped the arms of his chair.

"Yeah, buddy, I mean if you want me to talk to Fitz, I'll do it." Nate nodded. "But take a few days to think about it. The earliest I can talk to Fitz is the 18th. He's at Pearl today, then I'm on the campaign trail tomorrow, so I'll talk to you on the morning of the 18th before I talk to him, okay? Just to be sure."

"I don't think anything could make me change my mind." Harm answered.

"Just in case." Nate stood up and Harm stood as well. The two of them shook hands. "Otherwise, how are things over at Pax River?"

"You know, aviators are aviators." Harm shrugged.

"Ah, same old shit different day kind of thing?" Nate questioned as they moved toward the office door.

"Pretty much." Harm laughed. "So, how was the commercial shoot? I mean, I heard you were working with my old girlfriend."

"That's the Renee of all the legends?" Nate perked his eyebrows. "I wonder why Mac never told me. She was a good director, demanding definitely..."

"You have no idea." Harm joked.

"But in terms of her craft, I mean she knows her shit." Nate remarked simply. "She's a bit of a flirt, that's why I thought Mac and she had tension. But if I'd know that she was _that_ Renee, I would have put two and two together a bit quicker."

"Yeah, they never exactly got along." Harm grinned and shook his head.

"I was lucky though, I outrank Gunny so I could use him as a decoy." Nate joked.

"I'll let you get on with your day, you've probably got better things to do than swap war stories right now, anyway." Harm tapped Nate with his cover before moving into the doorway.

"Hey Harm." Nate called after him. "How about instead of me calling you before talking to Fitz, we do lunch when I get back. After all, even the Navy deserves to dine on the congressional dime once in a while."

"Sounds great." Harm laughed. "I know a great vegetarian place."

"No torturing Senators, Harm." Nate laughed and pointed at him as Harm shut the door on his way out.

1517 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"So, how's the married life, Admiral?" Mac smiled as the Admiral ventured out into the bullpen.

"Different than I remember." The Admiral commented. "There's a lot less screaming this time around. Which is I suppose a good thing."

"Depending on the context, sir." Mac joked and the Admiral allowed himself a laugh. "I heard that you and the Reverend had a wonderful tour of Italy."

"Colonel, it is nice to finally go to that country when I'm not on an inspection tour." The Admiral smiled.

"Or not trying to rescue your daughter from terrorists, sir?" Mac offered with a grin all her own.

"Or that, Colonel." The Admiral laughed again. "I keep forgetting that you're a part of the family."

"No more than you, sir." Mac added quickly.

"It is going to be odd working with one of my wife's closest friends." The Admiral shook his head. "I'm not gonna have to issue and order to keep all knowledge learned from girl talk conversations out of the office, am I?"

"Not sure that order would take, sir." Mac took a folder off Harriet's desk. The two of them stopped their conversation when they saw the Gunny approach.

"Sir, permission to report to the NROTC class at George Washington University in accordance with my recruiting duties?" Gunny came to attention in front of the Admiral.

"Have you completed your duties as I have assigned them to you earlier?" The Admiral pressed the Gunny.

"Yes, sir." Gunny affirmed. "Including tracking down a potential witness in a case Lieutenant Roberts is prosecuting, sir."

"Well done, Gunny." The Admiral looked impressed. "Permission granted in that case, and tell my brother-in-law I said hello."

"Will do, sir." Gunny nodded to the Admiral. "Any orders for the Colonel when I see him, ma'am?" This time his attention turned to Mac.

"None that I'm all the interested in repeating in public, Gunny." Mac laughed. "Just try and keep him out of trouble, Gunny, alright? And try to keep his ego in check? Those two things oughta keep you pretty occupied. God knows they keep me busy."

"Yes, ma'am." Gunny laughed. "The Colonel's a good guy, ma'am. I don't think he could be that much trouble."

"It's that quiet, aw shucks, Andy Griffith, Mayberry RFD demeanour, Gunny. Don't be fooled by it." Mac joked. "Just keep him from giving those prospective Marines and sailors too much of the Ross way of the Corps alright? We need some deprogrammed Marines too, okay?"

"Will do, ma'am." The Gunny laughed again.

"Dismissed, Gunny." The Admiral motioned with his right hand and the Gunny came to attention before turning on heel and headed through the glass doors of JAG. "I didn't know that the Gunny got along so well with Nate." The Admiral lowered his spectacles on his nose.

"Well they met in PT at the end of last year. They've got some similar personality traits, especially when they're trying to have fun. And their senses of humour are dead on similar." Mac gathered up another file from the desk in front of her.

"Really? I always thought that the Colonel and Captain Rabb were more similar." The Admiral extended his lower lip to express his understanding. "How's the Anders court martial coming?"

"Commander Turner's begin somewhat obstinate in the process of pre-trial negotiations." Mac explained.

"So, you don't have that much confidence in your case, Colonel?" The Admiral folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Not at all sir, I have plenty of confidence in my case, it's the members I'm not particularly fond of at the moment." Mac's exasperation crept through. "It's a sympathetic defendant who committed a crime in a situation everyone could empathize with. Even knowing he's guilty, I don't believe they'd necessarily convict him."

"Yeah, I used to hate prosecuting cases like that." The Admiral nodded. "Turner'll come around. He's the cautious type. If you've got all the evidence on him, he won't want to risk his client's future on the emotions of the members, especially on the off chance that he might be attempting to appeal to six military officers with a lot of self control."

"Thanks for the pep talk, sir." Mac cheered as she turned toward her office.

"Not a problem, Colonel." The Admiral turned back toward his office. "But one good turn deserves another, Colonel."

"Meaning what, sir?" Mac asked as she turned back to the Admiral, standing in front of her office door.

"No girl talk knowledge used in the office." The Admiral gave her that wise look over his glasses.

"I'll see what I can do, sir." Mac laughed and ducked into her office.

1641 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY

WASHINGTON, DC

Nate and Gunny were the guest speakers to this George Washington University NROTC class. It wasn't originally supposed to be a part of the recruiting campaign but when one of Gunny's old buddies from Pendleton heard about the campaign, he offered them the chance to speak and the Secretary of the Navy decided that it would be a good event to create some build up to the advertisement's release during the big Bowl game on New Year's Day.

The NROTC meeting place shared a building with offices and classrooms for the African-American studies and Women's studies departments on campus as well as the on-campus daycare facility. Some of the NROTC Middies called that building the blender because of the rather diverse crowd of people that tended to end up using that facility. The Gunny went first and he spoke to the Midshipmen about the good and the bad of his time in the Corps. He told them about his time and JAG and his tours in Kuwait and the former Yugoslavia. But he also told them about being at Camp Pendleton the day that Caleb Farmer went on his rampage, or what it was like watching the mass graves be uncovered in Bosnia.

When Nate got to the lectern, it became mostly about Desert Storm. He'd been in Panama before and in Somalia after, but Desert Storm had really come to define him, especially as a Marine. He told them what it was like to drive across the desert at night when the derricks were on fire. "It was like watching the gates of hell open up under your feet." Nate said with notable emotion. "There were two days I'll never forget though. The first was during the initial offensive into Kuwait. During our attempts to secure the airport in Kuwait City, I was holed up some 600 metres from the airport in a bombed out minaret. Marines that were a part of one MEF were patrolling the streets, my brother Preston was a Major at the time. He and some guys from his battalion were doing a sweep in a Humvee when a couple of stragglers from the Republican Guard popped out of a side alley holding a Molotov cocktail. I shot the man holding the explosive but before I could lock in another round, the other guy fired off a shot into the convoy. He hit my brother in the spine but missed his vital organs." Nate's emotions started getting the best of him. "The resulting depression suffered as a result of the loss of nerve function from his waist down was one of the major contributing factors in my brother's suicide four years later."

Nate cleared his throat. "A few days later, because I refused emergency leave after what happened with Preston, I was able to roll down Highway 80 between Kuwait City and Basra. Anyone here know the more common name for Highway 80?"

"The Highway of Death." One Midshipman answered from the back.

"That's right." Nate answered. "Driving down that highway, I got physically sick." Nate shook his head. "I have 87 confirmed kills as a Marine Corps Scout Sniper, I never saw anything like that. There are gonna be days, a lot of days, on this job where you ask yourself why the hell you do it and what good you're doing. There are gonna be days on this job where you question everything that you hold dear." Nate stopped at looked up from the lectern into the eyes of every Midshipman in that room. "This is the best goddamn job in the world. Bull Halsey once told my grandfather that there only four kinds of soldiers: soldiers, good soldiers, great soldiers and United States Marines. The good days in this job are the days where you find out what you're made of. Where you find out what it is that brings heroes to life. When you find out what it takes to make you a hero. But you'll also find out that the only thing that makes you immortal is death. Because in the Marine Corps, the only thing that lives forever, is the legend."

Nate stepped away from the lectern and the entire class of Midshipmen got to their feet. Their unit commander stepped up while applauding to take over the session for the remaining time. "I would like to thank Lieutenant Colonel Ross and Gunnery Sergeant Galindez for their remarks." Was all the unit commander got out before the explosion was heard and the building shook. Every person in the room hit the deck as the walls trembled and dust rained down out of the ceiling tiles. "Everybody okay?" Nate called around the room when the shaking seemed to subside for a second.

"Yeah." Seemed to be the general consensus as a few people chanced returning to their feet. Nate moved through the door into the hallway on the ground floor. Smoke permeated the atmosphere and Nate tried to stay as low as he could. A few seconds into his trip through the hallway and the building's smoke alarm went off. "Alright, everyone." Nate stood in the doorway to the NROTC unit. "We've gotta get the hell out of here. If you stop to help anyone, make sure to be safe but if you can't do it, realize that no one here is gonna think any worse of you."

The entire unit got up to vacate the room. They proceeded into the hallway, following their unit commander while Nate and Gunny took to clearing out the rooms and offices on the first floor between the NROTC room and the fire exit. Nate wrapped his Class A uniform jacket over his right elbow and pounded it through the glass so as the gain access to the emergency fire equipment. He took the axe an used the pick end to pry open an office door. When he looked inside, he saw a professor and a student trapped under a fallen cross beam from the rood above. "Gunny!" Nate shouted over his shoulder and Gunny appeared in the doorway. "Take this axe and search the other offices." Nate tossed him the axe.

"You need help moving the beam, Colonel?" Gunny stepped forward.

"Nah, adrenaline will see me through this one." The white of Nate's teeth barely visible through the smoke. Gunny nodded and headed out of the office and down the hallway. Nate breathed hard and put his hands under the simmering hulk of timber. With a mighty groan he lifted the beam. "Crawl, damn it, crawl." Nate instructed the two people who had been trapped. He strained to keep the beam in the air. Once they were free, he stepped back and let the beam fall. "Can either of you walk?" Nate questioned as he crouched down.

"I can." The older professor got to his feet.

"What about you?" Nate looked at the female student who, through a fog of tears shook her head. Nate got close enough to look and sure enough he saw a couple legs that looked like they'd been but through an organ grinder. He reached for a thin paperback book off the professor's bookshelf and handed it to her. "Bite down on this." He told her and she did. Nate proceeded to pick her up and drape her over his left shoulder. The three of them started out of the office and down the hallway but the professor was lagging behind. Nate stopped and waited for him to catch up before waiting to wrap his arm around the other man's waist. "Take the weight off the busted ankle" Nate instructed. "I should be able to take most of your weight, just hop along." His plan worked and at a faster pace than before, the Marine Lieutenant Colonel got the party of three out the fire exit and to a safe distance in the outdoors. The girl and the professor were let down on the grass and surrounded by the NROTC unit.

"Thank you." They both breathed out through coughs. "Senator?" The professor looked stunned Nate just nodded. A few moments later, Gunny came walking out with a couple grabs of his own.

"What's the sit rep, Gunny?" Nate asked, his hands fixed firmly on his hips.

"No clue, sir." Gunny answered. "People said they heard a big explosion."

"Guys, we have a bigger problem." The NROTC Commander interrupted. "Whoever did this felled a couple of tree at the only entrance to this street. It's blocking the fire department's only route in. It's gonna take them a few minutes."

"Shit." Nate cursed. He stared at the ground and ran a hand through his hair before looking up at Gunny. The two shared a nod of understanding before turning to address the NROTC unit.

1721 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The bullpen was full. No one could truly believe what they were seeing on CNN. A bomb had gone off on the George Washington University campus. Mac stood there, staring up at the screen in a blank terror. A cold sweat was forming at her brow, her guts were doing an unpleasant series of calisthenics as she kept her eyes glued to the screen. She saw the bird's eye view delivered by the helicopter attached to DC CNN affiliate.

"It appears as if some kind of explosive was detonated on the campus some ten minutes ago." The CNN reporter announced. "It did severe damage to the western wall of the building on campus which houses the campus daycare and NROTC." At the mention of the campus NROTC unit, the lump in Mac's throat grew twelve times. She wanted to shout, scream, do anything. She had to get down there. When the Admiral walked out into the bullpen, she made a bee-line for him.

"Sir, if you've heard, I've got to..." Mac started but the Admiral waved her off.

"Go, Mac." He instructed. "I'll settle up the court schedule for you this afternoon." The gravity of the situation had settled in the Admiral's mind as well. Mac sprinted across the bullpen into her office for her car keys before making a similar mad dash back across the bullpen and out the doors of JAG.

"Any news, Lieutenant?" The Admiral stood next to Bud.

"No, sir." Bud shook his head. "Nothing on who did it or what kind of explosive it was."

"Are the NROTC Midshipmen clear?" The Admiral asked.

"Yes, sir." Bud nodded. "The cameras showed them leaving the building just a few moments ago. Do you think Colonel Ross is okay, sir."

The Admiral stood stock still for a few seconds thinking. "Lieutenant, if Saddam, Noriega and my father-in-law couldn't kill him..."

"Yes, sir." Bud nodded. "But the Colonel... that is Colonel MacKenzie, sir...she seems pretty worried."

"If that was Harriet down there, Lieutenant, wouldn't you be?" The Admiral questioned, he turned back toward his office and put in a call to his in-laws to fill them in on the situation. "No calls or interruptions for a few minutes understood, Tiner?" The Admiral ordered his yeoman as he walked into his office.

"Yes, sir." Tiner nodded.

The Admiral settled into the chair behind his desk and picked up his phone. "Jack, this is AJ." The Admiral started. "Are you watching CNN?"

"Yes." The General's sombre tone came from the other end of the phone.

"Nate's down there." AJ explained. "He was a guest speaker for the GWU NROTC unit today. My Gunny's down there, too."

"Thank you for calling me, AJ." The urgency in the General's voice went up measurably. "I'll call my wife and I trust you'll call Beverley."

"Yes, sir." The Admiral affirmed. "I'm on my way down to GWU now, I'll pick her up en route."

"I guess I'll see you there, then." The General answered and the phone call ended. The Admiral grabbed his briefcase, keys and cover and headed out of his office.

"Tiner, I'm securing for the day. Commander Turner is in command." The Admiral breezed by his yeoman.

"Aye, sir." Tiner came to his feet. The Admiral was halfway through the bullpen when Bud's voice piped up.

"Sir!" He called and the Admiral turned to look over his shoulder. "They said the fire department is being delayed."

"Which means what, Lieutenant?" The Admiral wanted to get down there.

"Sir, the NROTC unit just went back into the fire." Bud explained and the Admiral's eyes went wide.

MINUTES EARLIER

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY

WASHINGTON, DC

"Alright." Nate stood at the front of the NROTC unit. "This is what we mean by all enemies foreign and domestic. The fire department is gonna be a little waylaid in getting here. So it's on us to go back in and check if there's anyone left in there. Anyone who doesn't want in, no less will be though of you. This mission is strictly voluntary. Those of you who are going in, you had damn well better listen to me and the Gunny."

A Midshipman piped up. "Sir, shouldn't we just wait for the Fire Department?"

Nate paused for a second and took a breath. Was he being too hasty? Too irrational? Did they really need to go back in. Just then he heard a scream from a second floor window and he saw the face of a little girl, no more than three or four, shrouded in smoke. "Professor, what's up there in those rooms?" Nate turned to the man sitting on the grass.

"That's the daycare." He answered simply. All doubt disappeared from Nate's mind and he looked at Gunny.

"We're going in." Nate stated simply and the Gunny nodded. The two of them rushed toward the fire exit and they didn't have to look back, they knew that the Midshipmen were following them. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and crouched low as they opened the doorway out of the stairwell. They slid through the open door into the second floor hallway. Nate took off his uniform jacket and popped the glass that gave them access to the emergency fire hose and extinguishers.

"You two." Gunny pointed at a couple Middies. "Man the hose, point and shoot." The two Midshipmen did as they were told and grabbed the hose. " Okay, half of you take an axe and an extinguisher and clear the offices and classrooms at this end of the hallway. The other half, follow the Colonel and I to the daycare centre."

The Midshipmen did as instructed. They broke into separate factions with half following the Gunny and Nate to the daycare centre. Part of the daycare was attached to the western wall of the building which had been the source of the explosion and hence, the site of the majority of the flames. Turned over desks, cross beams from the ceiling above and broken glass guarded the entrance to the daycare. Nate stuck the pick end of the axe into the door-jam and popped the door open to get inside. They were greeted by the sight of injured and dead children and the smell of burning flesh.

"I've got one over here!" Gunny called from a corner of the room. "She's one of the teachers or something, she's barely breathing!" Gunny double checked her pulse. "You two," he indicated a couple female Midshipmen, "take her downstairs." One by one, the Midshipmen gathered wounded kids and evacuated the daycare until just Gunny and Nate remained. Nate had grabbed a few kids from out behind a Fisher Price set that had caught fire. And was carrying them by his side as they did one final sweep of the room.

"Sir, I've got three of my own, I'm gonna take them out." Gunny explained. "I'll wait for ya by the door."

"Alright, Gunny." Nate nodded. He heard some faint crying coming from over by the western wall of the building he moved toward it bu the smoke and flames were particularly thick over there. The floor began to creak eerily underfoot so he told the kids to stay about ten feet back while he finished his sweep. When he saw a small hand clutched around a baby blue blanket he knew there was one more kid in the room. "Come here, sweetheart." He told the little girl as he crouched down. "I'll take you to safety, come on."

She shook her head at him. The floor creaked louder this time and his heart began to race like it was running Daytona. "Come on, we've gotta get out of here. You wanna see your mommy and daddy again, right? You've gotta trust me, Princess." Nate extended his hand to her and leaned forward. "I'm a Marine, I'm one of the good guys."

"Mommy says strangers are bad." The girl said weakly.

"And normally, your mommy's right but we've got to get out of here or the fire's gonna burn us." Nate tried to explain. He edge forward a bit and he heard the creak get louder. He extended his hand and shifted his weight. The unexpected happened and the floor opened up and collapsed between him and the little girl. In a last ditch attempt to save her, he grabbed for the blanket and got a hold of it in his right hand. "I've got ya, Princess, just don't let go." He told her as he cast his eyes on to two floors of collapsed rubble below. With a heave and yank, he brought her and the blanket into his chest. "I've got ya." He told her as he hugged her to his chest. He grabbed the two other kids under his left arm and made for the door where he met Gunny.

"You okay, sir?" Gunny asked breathlessly.

"Getting a little too old for this." Nate answered as they jogged toward the staircase. They headed down the staircase two at a time, the Middies up front, Nate and Gunny bringing up the rear. Gunny cleared his kids out the fire exit, as Nate's pace slowed. A piece of the ceiling fell and cut off Nate and the kids from the bottom eight stairs and the exit. "What are we gonna do?" Nate shouted to Gunny.

"Toss the kids to me, then jump, sir." Gunny answered. Nate nodded.

He carefully took each child in his hands, asked them and God for their trust for tossing them down to Gunny, who sure-handedly caught each of them. Nate smiled as the last child came in for a safe landing against Gunny's chest and was ushered out the exit to safety. Nate took a step back and just as he was preparing to jump he heard a faint voice from the near the door to the second floor. "Hey Mister, what about me?" Nate looked up and saw a young African-American boy there. His hands were badly burned and his clothes were burned on to his skin. Nate took a deep breath and hustled up the stairs to him.

"Where you going, sir?!" Gunny called after him.

"Got one more, Gunny!" Nate shouted back from up the stairs. He came face to face with young boy. "Not going anywhere without you." He told him and took him in his arms. The ceiling was beginning to fall in larger and more frequent pieces. Nate had to time each falling piece of debris as he moved them down the staircase. "Last one, Gunny." Nate called and Gunny readied himself. He caught the last boy in his arms and handed him off to a Middie who took him outside to safety.

"Alright, sir, now you." Gunny encouraged. Nate took a few steps back and prepared for a running leap. He took off and looked as though he was about to make it when a falling piece of the ceiling caught him on the head and sent him crashing to the burning debris on the stairs. "COLONEL!!" Gunny shouted as he headed into the fire. The Gunny took a few brave steps into the burning pile of wood and ash and drywall to find the Colonel lying unconscious. He reached down and picked up the Colonel, draped him over his shoulder and brought him outside. "Sir, sir, you've gotta speak to me." Gunny pleaded.

Nate was bleeding heavily from a massive gash in his forehead. He had at least second degree burns on his face hands and chest. Not to mention the amount of smoke he had likely inhaled over the last twenty minutes. "Sir, please speak to me!" Gunny began to perform CPR. "Colonel MacKenzie, will kill me, sir, if I can't get you out of this, speak damn it!" Gunny demanded but he still got no response.

The EMTs rushed over with a gurney and got Nate on it. "GWU Hospital is two minutes." One paramedic told him. "Best trauma ward in the District, get in the bus." Gunny hopped into the ambulance with the paramedics and sped off to the hospital. He closed his eyes and thought of his mother's picture of St. Teresa de Avila and said a silent prayer.

_It was dark, too dark to see, you held me in the light you gave  
You lay your hand on me  
Then walked into the darkness of your smoky grave  
Somewhere up the stairs into the fire  
Somewhere up the stairs into the fire  
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher  
Somewhere up the stairs into the fire _

1751 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, DC

Trauma surgeons had been attending to Nate for almost ten minutes when Mac and the Admiral arrived at the hospital. They found Gunny, the General, Eileen Ross and Sam Seaborn all gathered in the Waiting Room. The blood on the Gunny's shirt was proof of his heroism that day. Sam chewed all his fingernails almost down to the tips of the bone. All were waiting on some news.

"Sarah!" Eileen called and she and the General rushed forward to hug Mac. She might never have been sure before but she felt it now. Mac was a part of their family.

"What, what do we know?" Mac was on the verge of tears. "All you said was to come here."

"Mac..."Sam tried to step in but she shouted him down.

"Don't Mac me!" She protested. "What do we know?"

"Ma'am, we went back into the fire." Gunny interjected. "The Colonel and I rescued some of the kids from the daycare. One little boy almost got left behind, the Colonel went back for him. He got the little boy to safety but when it came the Colonel's time to jump through the flames, he was hit by a piece of falling debris. It struck a pretty nasty blow to his head. He fell in to the flames and got burned pretty bad, ma'am."

Mac stood stunned. She couldn't believe it. "No." She whispered and shook her head.

"He's in surgery right now, Mac." The General continued. "The doctors are doing all they can."

"I should have..." Mac swallowed hard. "I should have been there with you two...it was...I had court."

"Colonel..." AJ stepped in.

"No, sir!" Mac almost screamed. "I could have saved him."

"Or you'd be lying right next to him." AJ countered. Mac was about to protest when the trauma surgeon came walking out. He was an older man, thinning, cropped blonde hair.

"Are you here for Senator Ross?" He asked and the group nodded. "I'm sorry but there's nothing more we can do...there's just too much damage. He has a few minutes, perhaps you should say your goodbyes."

Mac held back the tears, the floodgates threatened to open at any second. She try to compose herself, get some strength into her knees but she failed and practically leaned on Sam the whole walk into the room. He lay there on the bed, a shell of his former physical self. His face was swollen, eyes almost swollen shut actually. The cut across his forehead had dyed his skin a heavy crimson. His hair was scorched, completely off in some places on his scalp. The skin on his face was burnt red, purple even black on his right cheek.

Eileen Ross was the first to breakdown. She wept hard and the General issues a silent goodbye to his son as guided his wife from the room. The next to breakdown was Beverley Chegwidden, the sight of her younger brother, a man who always seemed so much larger than life, now humbled by the ravages of that day. That was too much for her. The Admiral fixed a salute, to the fallen warrior lying on the table before guiding his wife out of the room as well.

"Don't do this to me." Mac protested silently. "Don't do this to me!" She screamed. The floodgates broke open and she cried. "I love you!" She almost collapsed to the floor but Sam caught her. Tears formed in his own eyes as he kept Mac upright. "I love you! Come back to me, damn it! Don't leave me like this!" She protested at the top of her lungs. "You said you'd never leave..."she sniffled, "without kissing me goodbye and telling me you loved me." She leaned forward and touched her fingertips to his lips. "Please." She whispered. The muscles spasmed for a second under her touch. A last kiss. Sam tried to move them toward the door but Mac refused. "Not until he goes." She told Sam. They stood there, waiting for it. The beeping of the machines slowed, and slowed and slowed until they were greeted with one continuous beep and the flat-line of the heart monitor reflected in each of their pupils. Mac took his hand one last time. She pressed it to her breast and leaned to whisper in his ear. "You'll forever be right here." She told him and kissed the knuckle on his left ring finger before finally walking with Sam out of the room.

Gunny followed them in tow but when he got to the door, he turned back for a second and came to attention, fixing a salute to his brow. "You said, in the Marine Corps, the only thing that lives forever is the legend. I'll make damn sure no one ever forgets yours, sir." He fired off a salute even as his lip quivered. He stepped out.

The door closed.


	21. Into the Fire Part 2

_A/N: I stole one scene in this chapter from my favourite West Wing episode, when you read it, you'll know which._

The old house in Leesburg was cold. The General had always meant to fix the furnace downstairs, the darn thing seemed to conk out every summer when it wasn't needed and never be ready in time for winter when it was. Mac stood in the window of an upstairs bedroom staring out into the rain soaked sod of the backyard. She'd been so embarrassed that night after she collapsed in the hospital that afternoon. The General and Eileen had gathered her up and insisted that she spend the next few days at the house out in Leesburg with the rest of the family. That phrase had hung her up. It implied that she was a part of the family. She shouldn't have been surprised, not after the last few months.

She watched as the General and Eileen went about their business, bringing the family together and making sure that the faces that needed to make their appearance in the house did. Anna was brought home from the Academy earlier than intended for Christmas leave, the General even called in a few favours to get Sergei Rabb out early as well so that Anna would have a friend around the house for company. I had become plainly obvious from the amount of letters, phone calls and other communications that had poured in during the first few hours after the death had become public knowledge that there would be a considerable amount of mourners wishing to pay their last respects.

The death, that's what is was called. It was as if attaching his name to it made it all that much more final. As though knowing he was lying in a morgue in DC, some forty miles away, hadn't succeeded in making it all final enough. The arrangements seemed to get made in small flashes. It was getting the National Cathedral and having the family agree to keep the media out. It was deciding on the casket style or that he'd be buried at Arlington. He was going to be buried right next to Preston. Every other decision, the family had included Mac in but that one she didn't want to go near. She wasn't sure she'd be able to watch the casket sink into the ground when the time came.

She stared around the room and thought about the last few days. It was hard not to go back as far as the hospital. Her mind fought against any urge to go back that far. Scenes of that day insisted upon replaying themselves in her mind. She had to feel the same weakness she felt when she saw the heart monitor stop beeping. She had to know what it was like to drive out to Leesburg with the General and Eileen. Having Sam Seaborn buzz around this place that night and the next morning like a moth drawn to a flame. Sam was still dropping by four or five times a day to see if there was anything he could do.

For her part, Mac had been trying to start the grieving process in just about any way possible. It all stemmed from a discussion that she'd had with Eileen the first night. Mac had talked about wanting to wear her dress uniform to the funeral and Eileen had stopped her. "He never knew you as a warrior." Nate's mother had advised her. "You were the woman he loved. Don't try and hide your grief. Don't try and hide behind facades to make it easier, Sarah. It will be hard, it's supposed to be. If it wasn't then it wasn't love." With a tender tap on her knuckles Eileen had exited the kitchen that evening. Mac had to pause. She drove into her apartment that day, and almost in trance, she walked into her bedroom and grabbed her black dress before turning and walking back out. There was going to be no looking at the pictures or taking in the scent, reliving the memories, none of that. She was there that day to be in and out.

It was one of the things that she found odd. Any memories of Nate's apartment, what it looked like, never included pictures. But her apartment was full of them. So was his mother's house. The pictures brought her and odd comfort. The ones of him in a Marine uniform, standing with Preston. The ones of him on leave when he was younger at the Eastern Shore, back behind the bar at Johnny Junior's. He was always smiling. It was that kind of smile that he carried when he was finally able to jettison work for a few minutes and have a little fun. She loved that smile. Over the last few days, when she'd see it in pictures, she'd pick up the frame and trace it with the slow movement of a fingertip. Each time she did, it caused her to smile. It caused her to think of every time that she'd seen that smile. Every time that he'd snuck up behind her, wrapped those arms around her waist and pressed that same, soft smile into her neck.

Mac knew on some level that wearing a black dress to the funeral was as much for Eileen and Jack as it was for her. That was to some degree understandable. They wanted to know that she had loved him, loved him so dearly that she didn't need to hide her grief. And she had, but she'd never confronted emotions without using the Marine Corps as a kind of crutch before. With her drinking, there had been Uncle Matt, a Marine. The Corps had helped sober her up and straighten her out. When the men in her life, be they Dalton or Mic or John or...Harm had let her down, the Corps had always been there for stability. She could always be Mac or Lieutenant, or Captain or Major or Colonel MacKenzie. She could retreat behind that. But these people were asking something different of her. They needed her to be Sarah. The woman they had accepted into their circle. The Corps was so close, it was in this family's DNA. But this time, there would be no reaching for it.

So, she stood in the old Victorian house in Leesburg, staring out the window at yet another rainy day. Just a week ago, she'd been praying for snow. A candle-lit motel room, rose petals and soft music, her man in a tuxedo trying to sweep her off her feet as he prepared to propose to her. Fittingly, the sun had hidden since it happened. The rain was beginning to accumulate in the backyard, creating scattered puddles. She blinked hard. It seemed like she spent so much time in the last few days just trying to restrain tears. To not let the others see her quivering lower lip, or to hide the break in her voice behind a cough or an uncleared throat. In a borrowed dark green bathrobe, she stood in front of the window staring down the raindrops.

She cast a casual glance down to her right and saw a picture of a few teenage boys at what looked to be some kind of family gathering. The one in the middle, his tall form, dark hair and dark eyes told her who it was. Billy Ross was instantly recognizable. He had GQ features, and that kind of devilishly maniacal smile that functioned as his own version of the flyboy grin. It was disarming, it told girls that he wanted them, Mac had watched it work on Chloe with such ease. It didn't matter if he was in sweats like he had been after the football game, or in a tux or in golf apparel like he had been on the Sunday after the wedding, that smile had made Chloe swoon for him just the same.

Actually, Billy was the one member of the family Mac had identified with most in the last few days. The reason was pretty easy to understand; for both of them, so much of their futures were tied up in who Nate Ross had been. For Billy, all he had ever wanted to be was his uncle. But now he'd seen the tragic side of what that kind of honour can mean. Mac hadn't understood until just yesterday how much significance Nate had played in the young boy's life. He was his compass, always pointing him due North, toward the right thing to do, the right path to take. Without Nate, Billy seemed lost. Like that once steady compass was now in a room full magnets and it's weary traveler held at the mercy of an indecisive needle.

For Mac, it had been her future. At least what she'd come to see it as in recent months. A house in Great Falls, his ascension to the Vice Presidency under Jed Bartlet. A few kids, a dog and a white picket fence. She knew the family penchant for boys, like the Y chromosome was just unavoidable in Ross generations. She had no problem envisioning two, three or even four boys with one little sister. One little princess that would always have daddy wrapped around her little finger. It caused a lump to rise in her throat just thinking about it.

Eileen stepped through the bedroom door to find Sarah staring down at a picture frame. "Which one have you got there?" She asked as she continued walking. "I've found myself staring at quite a few different ones the last few days."

"Must be a recent one." Mac offered a weak smile. "From a recent family gathering or something." Mac turned the frame toward Eileen.

"No dear," Eileen shook her head. "That's an old one. Twenty years at least."

"Then who?" Mac pointed toward the boy in the middle of the picture.

"That's Nathan, dear." Eileen answered, a knowing tone in her voice. "Who did you think?"

"Billy." Mac whispered weakly. A question formed in the back of her mind as long unanswered questions began to rise to the surface. "Eileen, is Billy...?" Mac couldn't bring herself to complete the question.

"Nathan's?" Eileen chanced. "Inappropriate as it might be to speak of it now, the answer is I don't know for sure. But I'd bet on it."

"But...but...how?" Mac questioned, her eyes opened wide.

"No one would ever have known when he was younger. Nathan and Stephen always looked so much alike. A DNA test back then wouldn't have proven anything, they were brothers after all. I don't think Nathan knew." Eileen took a deep breath. "But as a mother and grandmother, there was a light. A twinkle in their eyes. A fierce commonality in their spirit."

"Does anyone else know?" Mac could still not bring herself to more than whisper.

"Lily knows, I imagine. Stephen might, he was always harder on Billy than the others. If he doesn't know, he at least suspects. As for the others, my husband, Anna, Beverley, they don't know." Eileen explained. "I don't think I could even confirm it beyond my own instinct."

"Do you really think he didn't know?" It seemed a bit of an odd question to ask.

"Definitively? No." Eileen shook her head. "Isn't your little sister coming down from Vermont? I didn't know that she was that fond of him."

"She was." Mac nodded, a single sullen teardrop playing across her eyelash. "But I think she's coming more to be a comfort to me...and to Billy."

"Became fond of my grandson during the wedding weekend, did she?" Eileen forced a laugh from inside her throat. "Preston and Stephen were never the best with women, you know? Took after their father that way."

"Really." Mac stood a little in disbelief.

"Oh yeah." Eileen nodded. "The General could lead a battalion into a VC stronghold but it took him seven tries to ask me on a date. Preston never had a lot of girlfriends, actually I think he had maybe two from high school until he died. The boy bottled every thing up, the only person he ever spoke to about what was going on in his head was Nathan. Stephen was just awkward, if Nathan hadn't introduced him to Lily initially, I doubt very much that he would have pursued her."

"Nate was the player of the group?" Mac smiled fondly.

"I don't know so much that he was some Don Juan." Eileen stared out the window. "Nathan was a lot like his grandfather. Very old fashioned in a lot of respects. I gave him books, his father gave him his looks but his grandfather gave him those refined tastes in whiskey and wine, cigars and the like. But it came slowly to him, too. One girlfriend in high school, two at Penn State, then between his time in the Marines and Princeton he had another four I think. Then there was Rose."

"I've heard about her." Mac leaned on the windowsill and listened to Eileen tell her history.

"I never liked that girl. She was a champion of easy flattery and false promises. Beverley agreed with me on that one. But when a member of this family starts dating someone, we keep all our opinions to ourselves and do our best to get along. The people in this family are what matter, as long as someone makes them happy, we make our peace with them." Eileen explained. "Happiness is a hard enough thing to come by in this world."

"So, with me..." Mac chanced.

"No, Sarah." Eileen put her hand on Mac's shoulder. "You were our favourite, all of us." The older woman extended a fond smile. "Beverley likes you, which is a good sign because she's always the toughest one to get by. You're Anna's role model."

"And you?" Mac inquired.

"I always knew Nathan would need somebody tough." Eileen explained. "The boy had so much potential but also a lot of charm. A lesser woman, a weaker woman would give him anything he wanted. If Nathan wasn't challenged, he could get lazy. When he got lazy, he started seeing what kind of objectionable behaviour he could get away with. You never let him off easy, he always had to be better than he had been the day before." Eileen produced an item from behind her back. It was a simple red and white Christmas stocking with "Sarah" spelled in gold glitter across the top. "He got this for you and would have wanted you to have it. Including what's inside."

Mac took the stocking in her hand and fished through it to the bottom where she felt the small velvet box. She lifted it out and stared at it. "I know what's in here." She whispered.

"I know you do, dear." Eileen stepped forward and hugged her. "He wanted you to be a part of this family. I hope you know that for as long as you want that place he intended for you, you have it. As long as you want to be a part of this family, Sarah, you'll always be welcomed in this house." Eileen stepped back and saw the tears about to spill out of Mac's eyes.

"Thank you, Eileen." Mac's lower lip quivered and she hugged Mrs. Ross again.

1643 ZULU

WASHINGTON NATIONAL AIRPORT

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Mac had managed the whole car ride with Billy in silence. She wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure what to do. Should she talk with him about Nate? Could she even bring up the topic for him. He walked around his grandparents' house in Leesburg with much the same expression Mac had. It was as though the lens through which they'd come to see the future had cracked to create a kaleidoscope style frame. A thousand colours, a thousand disconcerting refractions of light passing in front of their eyes in every moment. "How...how are you feeling?" It was the one sentence Mac had managed to get out during the car ride.

"Well, my ancestry is Jewish, Scottish and Irish." Billy grumbled. "So, I suppose that the two most overpowering urges are guilt and an overpowering desire to drink."

"Is that Irish Catholic guilt or Jewish guilt?" Mac tried to prod the young boy into talking. She was willing to overlook the initial comment about booze. Not that she hadn't thought about the seemingly omnipresent vodka bottle eight or nine dozen times in the last few days.

"You know what the difference is?" Billy hung his arm out the car window.

"No." Mac stated out of genuine curiosity.

"Whiskey." Billy grinned and shook his head. Mac decided from that point that there was little point in trying to force him to talk. Now that she knew, she kicked herself for not seeing it earlier. He managed to look, even act so much like his...father. Wow, that was gonna be hard to get used to. It wasn't that she had a hard time seeing him as a father. Since the wedding, it had been one of the things she'd thought most often about. But the idea that he was one already...that was something entirely different to get her head around.

She stood next to Billy at the gate as they waited for Chloe to get off the plane. The familiar mop of blonde hair navigated its way through the crowd. When Chloe saw Mac, she ran at her. There was a difference between the two of them, something that Mac thought was the result of her age and Chloe's lack thereof. Mac kept her emotions to herself, it was one thing that comforted her about her time at the Ross house. Only Eileen and Beverley really expressed their emotions outwardly. The rest of the family, those who stopped by the house and those who had driven in from Pennsylvania were good at restraining their emotions. The General and his brothers mostly spent their nights cloistered down in the fruit cellar, sitting around a poker table smoking Cuban cigars, passing around bottles of Jack Daniels and telling Nate anecdotes over rounds of uproarious laughter and the incessant clacking of poker chips.

None of them ever slept upstairs. The General made appearances in the afternoon, but Nate's uncles spent the last two days down in the basement, drinking and smoking and designating one member of their number to walk up the stairs, throw a few slices of meat and cheese between bread with mustard, call them sandwiches and disappear back down the stairs. Being a Ross was being a Ross, that was how they dealt with grief. She was like them. It would be so easy for her to just go down there, shoot the shit and reach for the bottle when it was passed around.

But Chloe wasn't like that. She could pour her emotions out and let the world know what was going on. Sure, she could be tough if she had to be but she never held back around Mac. When she wrapped Mac in a hug and a loud sniffle indicated that just seeing her big sister caused her to fight back tears. "How are you?" She choked out.

"Been better." Mac forced a smile. "Flight good?"

"Vermont to Washington one way. It's like an hour flight, I barely got the peanuts opened." Chloe tried hard to smile. She turned to Billy who looked as though he couldn't wear a pleasant expression right now even if he wanted to. "And you?"

"Shit happens everywhere, mine isn't special." Billy crossly answered. "It just hurts a little more because it's mine."

"Trying to be a tough guy, huh?" Chloe crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Who's trying?" Billy shot back and Chloe gave him a worried look. Mac moved the three of them through the terminal toward the parking lot. She noticed there seemed to be a little, well actually more than a little uneasiness emanating from Chloe. Mac knew that feeling. She'd worn it the night she discussed Diane's death with Harm, she'd worn it countless times she'd watched Harm on the bridge of a carrier before he'd returned to flying. Chloe sat in the front seat next to Mac and Billy stretched across the backseat, his Boston Red Sox baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

"How's everyone holding up?" Chloe chirped as they pulled out of Arlington and drove across a few stretches of rural Northern Virginia.

"Everyone's dealing with it." Mac answered, trying not raise Chloe's concerns. "In their own way. Some people are having and easier time, others aren't."

"And the people at JAG? I know some of them liked him, or were close to him." Chloe was falling seamlessly into a pattern of not using his name. It didn't need to be used and it seemed as though only Eileen or Beverley would ever say it. He was never Nate for them either, always Nathan.

"Bud and Harriet call a few times a day to see if there's anything they can do, they even drove out yesterday." Mac kept her eyes staring off into the distance of the road. "The Admiral's been by everyday, but he's part of the family. Sturgis and Bobbi sent flowers and a card. The Gunny's been afraid to come by, I think he wishes he could have done more. I got so angry at him that night after we all left the hospital."

"Gunny was there?" Chloe didn't have all the details. She got a few details from Mac when Mac had called the night after it happened but most of what she knew, she got from CNN and her grandparents subscription to the Boston Globe.

"Yeah, he damn near saved Nate's life." Mac breathed out almost in a whisper. It was the first time that she'd thought of it that way. Even with all the injuries that he'd sustained, Gunny's presence of mind was still fast enough that he'd gotten Nate out, on to an Ambulance and to GWU Hospital in enough time for the trauma surgeons to think they at least had a chance at saving him. The car came to a stop at a red light and Mac bowed her head and decided she was gonna call Gunny and apologize for what she'd said.

2347 ZULU

ROSS HOUSE

LEESBURG, VIRGINIA

Dinner had finished. The Uncles, still buried under a heap of cigar smoke and Jack Daniels bottles didn't emerge from their mausoleum downstairs in the fruit cellar. Once again, a member of their number was delegated to the come up into the kitchen and throw two dozen sandwiches together before disappearing into the fruit cellar with them. For Eileen, Mac, Chloe, Anna, Sergei, Beverley, AJ and Billy, dinner was something more civilized. Some home cooked food, the soft, faint strains of AM radio in the background and forcing the kids to tell the adults about their school and their friends and their extra-curricular activities.

Everyone seemed willing to do anything to avoid talking about tomorrow. About a funeral to take place at the National Cathedral. About a burial to take place at Arlington Cemetery. About the longest car ride of their lives that would take place as the family and well-wishers drove back to the house in Leesburg from the National Cemetery. The General appeared out of the rickety stairwell that led down to the fruit cellar. "AJ," the General looked to his new son-in-law, "why don't you come downstairs and join us. Young Mr. Rabb, you're welcome as well."

Surprised by the General's invitation, both AJ and Sergei pushed their chairs out from the table, got to their feet and walked over to the cellar door. The three of them walked toward the old white birch door that led down into the cellar when the General looked back over his right shoulder. "Billy, come on." The General nodded at this grandson who instantly looked for approval from his grandmother and aunts.

"Jack..." Eileen was the first to speak up.

"The boy lost his hero, Eileen. I don't care what the numbers are on his birth certificate, that experience turns anyone into a man." The General countered, his jaw steeled and the clouds temporarily moved from his eyes. "We're not gonna get him drunk and we won't let him smoke. Come on." The General waved for his grandson who also pushed away from the table and headed for the stairwell down into the basement. The white door clicked shut behind them and they disappeared from sight.

"The inner sanctum is now accepting new members." Beverley commented as she arose from the table. "Do you know what they even do down there?"

"Same thing they did when we had the house in Bethlehem." Eileen leaned back in her chair. "They set up a dozen cots and sleeping bags, buy ten or so bottles of Jack and a box of cigars and drink and smoke until they don't feel anything any more."

"Not exactly healthy." Mac mumbled.

"Not in the least." Eileen answered. "But I've learned that men in this family are only so flexible. Push them too far and they break and you never get them back. It was what almost happened with Nathan when Preston died."

"Yeah, there was six months from hell." Beverley remarked as she removed the dishes from the table. "Wouldn't talk, wouldn't smile, just went to work, went back to that apartment and dove into a bottle of wine. I don't know what brought him out of it, but it was like one day the lights just went back on behind his eyes."

Chloe gave Mac a worried look and Mac gave her a nod. "I think I'll go out and get some air." Chloe told the room with a smile and headed for the door that led out on to the front porch. She stood out against the railing for a few seconds before Mac came out to join her. Chloe exhaled hard, her chin pressed hard into her chest. "It's depressing here."

"It has a reason to be." Mac offered.

"Yeah." Chloe nodded then turned and looked out into the street. "But it's like they've got their own little rituals. They accept it. A lot of families, someone dies and they pull together."

"You have to remember that we're basically spectators on this one." Mac moved toward Chloe. "They've been doing these things, having these rituals, and in a lot of cases, growing up in this environment since they were very young. Every family has their own process for dealing with this kind of thing."

"All I've gotten from the last few hours is that Mrs. Ross and Reverend Chegwidden are trying to keep everything glued together while all it seems to want to do is fall apart." Chloe breathed hard. "They don't talk about him a lot. But you miss him right?"

Mac swallowed the lump in her throat just from being asked the question. "I know it doesn't look it." Mac wrapped an arm over Chloe's shoulders. "I know, that I've tried to do my best to keep it all inside but I can't look as his picture without having all the wind sucked out of my lungs, Chloe. I don't like walking around this house sometimes. He's everywhere here but I know that if I want to get through this, I've got to be near people he cared about. It won't make me miss him less, but at least I won't feel quite as alone."

"You're not alone, Mac." Chloe put her head on Mac's shoulder. "You've always got me."

"I know, kiddo." Mac kissed the top of Chloe's head. "I know." Mac watched a black sedan pull up the driveway and she waited to see who appeared from behind the tinted glass. When she saw the familiar form of Clayton Webb, she sent Chloe back into the house. "Good evening, Webb."

"Mac." Webb stopped on the porch. "How are you holding up?"

"Definitely been better." Mac answered. "Why are you here?"

"Nate was a friend of mine, I came to pay my respects to his family." Webb answered, his hands stuffed firmly into the pockets of his trench coat.

"You could do that tomorrow at the funeral. Why are you really here?" Mac folded her arms in front of her chest and stared Clayton down.

"We know something about who did it." Clayton started. "It wasn't foreign terrorism. Which is good because it'll tamp down the news media sensationalism. A source of mine at the FBI says they're watching a couple kids on campus who've been looking into some violent militia group propaganda. Might not mean anything, but they think it's significant that the perpetrators in this cased used a variant on the kind of explosive device that was used in Oklahoma City."

"So, they have a suspect?" Mac nodded to her long time CIA contact.

"They think so." Clayton's eyes got grim. "But they want to nail this one airtight, so they're giving it a little time. One of the things I like about the CIA, we don't have to convince juries. Who's giving the eulogy?"

"It's Billy." Mac's eyes closed. "It was what he wanted. Sam's been working on the speech with Billy, when he's come by the house the last few days."

"Sam's a good writer, he won't steer the kid wrong." Clayton commented. "But still, a lot for one kid to do, don't think it's necessarily right."

"I can agree with the General on one thing." Mac put a hand on Clayton's shoulder. "When he found out his uncle died, Billy stopped being a kid."

1451 ZULU

NATIONAL CATHEDRAL

WASHINGTON, DC

Weddings and Funerals, the Admiral had been right, there were no two occasions more suited for a random collection of friends and enemies. This wasn't just a funeral for Nathan Ross, not if you read the Post. This was a national funeral, meant to let the entire nation grieve for the people who'd died that day in those attacks. The final count was gruesome but not unexpected. There were thirty-nine dead, four missing and presumed dead and sixty-eight wounded. This funeral was supposed to counter that image, those numbers. It was supposed to make the thirty-nine mean something by providing a face for one of the fallen.

Mac sat in the front row with the Ross family. The General's brothers sat in the row behind them, the physical toll of three days of binge drinking and the resulting hangover had allowed them to fix the appropriate emotional appearance on their faces. Mac looked across the aisle and saw the other dignitaries. The other 99 Senators had all come, maybe they weren't friends or they all didn't get along, but the Senate was for better or worse a club and he had been one of their members, right up until the moment he died. President Andrew Russell was here, he'd always had a special place in his heart for the young man that he'd tapped to be his Secretary of State. He sat in the front row on the other side of the main aisle, flanked by his Secret Service detail. Behind the Russells sat the Bartlets and Leo McGarry. In the same pew sat Toby Ziegler, Josh Lyman and CJ Cregg. She'd come to know them all through the campaign. A few rows back were the firefighters from 14 Truck who'd been the first to respond that day. Mac watched them sit there, eyes trained on the casket, reverently treating Nate as though he'd died one of their own.

On the side of the aisle reserved for friends and family Mac knew she would see Sam Seaborn if she cared to look over her shoulder. Nicole DiPiccio, Mike Bradley, Gunny, Lily, Nate's nephews and Morley would all likely be back there as well. She cast a secondary glance back just in time to see the familiar form of Harmon Rabb slide into a pew some seven rows back. Nate's British cousins were back there as well. There was no pomp and circumstance to their entrance this time, no light-hearted joking or fraternal laughs and slaps on the back. They wore their dress uniforms, bowed their heads and kept a respectful silence.

Most of official Washington was here. Most of them acquaintances, many of them likely friends, some of them probably enemies or close to it. But there was something about the majesty of this place, the grandeur of the National Cathedral, even with a flag-draped coffin at the front and no sun in the sky outside. She would never get over the fact that she was here today in a black dress. It had been years since she'd gone to a funeral in one, she was normally in uniform at these occasions. The people in the flag draped caskets at the front were usually comrades, fellow Marines. There was a Marine in the casket at the front, but this was not a comrade-in-arms; it was her boyfriend, the man soon to be her fiancé.

The service started, a local Presbyterian Minister that Beverley had recommended conducted the service. His crisp and lumbering baritone filled the echoing chasm of the cathedral. This place was as close to full as it had likely been for a non-Presidential funeral and still it seemed cavernous and nearing empty. The Reverend stood at the front and finished his initial statements before calling for the first reading by Nate's sister Beverley. Beverley gave the first reading, which was followed by the Reverend returning to the traditional sermon for the remembrance and blessing extended unto the deceased. Anna was called upon to give the second reading, which she did with some expected Marine stoicism.

"Now, I would like to call upon William Ross to deliver the eulogy." The Reverend extended his hand toward Billy who was seated along the aisle on the right hand side in the second row. Billy took a deep breath and pulled that strong but lanky six-foot-one frame up out of the pew. He blinked hard as he walked almost mechanically up to the lectern at the corner of the altar. It had been three days since anyone, his mother, his grandmother or anyone had seen anything resembling emotion out of Billy Ross.

The fifteen year-old cleared his throat as he braced himself on the lectern. He cleared his throat, a sound which echoed through the microphone. He stared down at the speech that Sam had helped him write over the last few days and then stared straight back at the back of the church. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be talking to." Billy started. "Or even really what I'm supposed to say." He picked up the paper and folded it neatly before sticking it inside the breast pocket of his jacket. Right then, even if he didn't see it, Sam Seaborn smiled and nodded at the young man's authenticity. He watched as a tear formed at the corner of Billy's right eye.

"I think maybe I'm supposed to tell you about the man I knew. I'm supposed to tell you about the fact that in spite of his job routinely taking him around the world for good reasons, he never missed even one of my little league games. I'm supposed to tell you that he helped my mom and dad pay for me to play football every summer and fall. I'm supposed to tell you that he made me want to be a Marine and that whenever someone asked me what a good man was, I told them it was him." Billy's voice broke.

"I can tell you what he taught me, about what it meant to be a man. My uncle never lectured me, he never told me things when he thought I needed to be corrected, only when he thought they'd help me make a decision." Billy looked down at the politicians on the left side of the aisle. "Medals, citations and accolades don't make you a hero. A hero, most times is someone who just does the right thing, day after day, even when he doesn't see any personal benefit in doing it. A hero doesn't have to be perfect, in fact he'd tell you the best ones aren't, he'd tell you that some times they do the right thing simply because they're too tired or scared to do anything else. Those moments, he told me, were what made your character." Billy ran a knuckle under his nose.

"For me, it's fitting that he died in one of those moments." Billy stared right down at the flag draped casket. "He used to tell me that character was the decisions you made when no one else was looking. No one would have blamed if he didn't go back in, he'd already pulled two people out. For that feat alone, there would have been people willing to call him a hero but that wasn't who my uncle was. When you know you can do more, and you choose not to, it gets that little bit harder to look yourself in the mirror. It gets that little bit harder to hold yourself in any kind of esteem. When I was told that he ran back into the fire, I wasn't surprised. And I wasn't surprised when Gunny told me he was the last one out."

Billy's lips pursed and the bottom one quivered. "I wanted to be angry at him." Billy stepped down from the lectern and the Reverend handed him the microphone he had clipped to his lapel. "I wanted to ask him why he had to be so damn noble this time? He'd done it so many times in the past, we'd all forgive him for not being quite as willing to dive into the flames again." A tear ran down Billy's right cheek. "He had reason to stay out. People who cared for him, he was gonna ask Mac to marry him on Christmas morning." Billy laid his hand on the casket and looked up at the people in the front row of the church. "But character is what you do when no one else is looking. Only this time, the world was looking. The whole country watched as those NROTC Midshipmen ran back into the fire led by a couple Marines. In a morning where there should have been so much grief, where there should have been so much fear and so much terror. In a morning where we should have felt vulnerable and shaken, we got proof that America still breeds heroes." He smoothed out wrinkle in the flag.

"I'll miss him every day." His tears were coming harder now. He couldn't make out a person's face clearly through the fog in his eyes. "I loved him as an uncle and I'll grieve for all the moments of my life that he'll miss, moments that I know he would have enjoyed. But I'm grateful for what he left me, an example of what is was to have good character. An example of how to be a common hero, and if I'm ever in the same situation..." Billy sniffled hard, "an example of uncommon courage." Billy leaned down rested his forehead for a second against the stars above the head of the casket. "Goodbye, Uncle Nate."

Billy handed the microphone back to the Reverend and crossed in front of the altar to return to his seat. When he was done, there wasn't a dry eye in the church. Reverend McDougall finished the service and the pallbearers stood up to carry the casket out the back of the church. Clayton Webb and Mike Bradley were at the front of the casket, in the middle were Billy Ross and AJ Chegwidden and at the back of the casket were Sam Seaborn and Jed Bartlet. The church began to empty but Mac just stood next to the front pew waiting for the church to clear.

"Sarah, aren't you coming?" Beverley put her hand on Mac's shoulder.

"Just...uh...give me a second." Mac nodded at Beverley who followed the rest of the crowd out of the back of the church. When she saw the church was empty, Mac looked up at the marble statue of Christ at the front of the Church."You know what? I never doubted you. I watched Joe MacKenzie beat my mother and make her life a living hell and I never doubted you. I watched you put my uncle in prison, I watched you take Dalton, take Chris, punish John, crash Harm and still I never doubted you." Mac pointed to the picture of Nate next to the altar.

"You let him take bullets in combat, in a drive-by on a DC street, you let him get blown up by an IED in Afghanistan and survive. But he runs into a fire, runs in to save people from dying a gruesome and painful death and your reward is to take him from us? From all these people here today who loved him and needed him? To take him from me?"

"I never doubted you, not once but today I did. This world was a better place with him in it. There are cowards out there, people who live their lives without taking the risk or extending their hand to help a human being, people who don't like the heat and they avoid the fire. He ran into it. Not to prove that he was brave or to impress people. He ran in to help people, people who couldn't help themselves. Isn't that exactly what he was supposed to do?" Mac stepped into a pew and picked up a Bible.

"Isn't that the kind of thing this book tells us to do? Well what the fuck good is this book if it doesn't protect us? It didn't save him. You didn't save him. And what's more you son of a bitch, you could have. Yes, he killed people. He was a Marine, it was his job. I've killed people, the Admiral has, Harm has, is there no atonement? No peace for us on this earth? You think we wanted to kill people? You think we enjoyed it?" She started sobbing hard and angrily hurled the Bible to the floor.

"You think it was easy or that we didn't live with it every day? What did you want from him? What do you want from me? Why won't this stop? Why do you always have more questions than answers?" She stood at the base of the marble statue of Christ.

"Once, in a Lit class I read a C.S. Lewis quote, "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do what is best for us; we are wondering how painful that best will turn out to be". I don't know how much he was paid to put out a press release like that for you, because I think all you did today was needlessly torture a church full of people. How much more painful should it be? For me or for anyone else in this church? I'm starting to think the mystery of God is just an excuse for being vindictive."

Unbeknown to Mac, Reverend Ross had stepped back into the church about halfway through her tirade. When she reached the end of her thought, Beverley felt it was appropriate to intervene. "Sarah, that's enough." Beverley announced as she strode down the middle aisle.

Mac turned to face Beverley, her anger dissipating and giving way to her grief. Her bottom lip quivered as she turned toward Beverley and walked with her up the aisle. They needed to get over to Arlington for the burial. Many of the mourners headed for the house out in Leesburg where the General's brothers would host a small gathering for those wanting to pay their respects until the family got back from Arlington. A small host of family and friends accompanied the hearse to Arlington National Cemetery. A company of six Marines received the casket and carried it to the grave site and set it in the appropriate place. They squared up and proceeded with the folding of the flag. It was fitting for the Ross family that Gunny led the procession of Marines and that when the time came to hand over the flag, it was Gunny that placed it in Mac's hands. "From a grateful nation."

"Thank you, Gunny." Mac looked at Gunny's sullen expression. The Battalion Chief of 14 Truck was the next to step in front of the gathering. In his hands he held a bunker jacket with the name _"Ross" _emblazoned across the bottom of it.

"Ma'am," the older firefighter stood in front of Mrs. Ross, "your boy might not have been one of us when he was alive but he fought the beast just like one of us and he died like one of us. The boys of 14 Truck would like your family to have this." The Chief handed the bunker jacket to Eileen whose worn look and gentle nod was all the thanks she could offer for thanks. The Marines lined up with their rifles and fired the twenty-one gun salute, which was followed by the missing-man fly by over the Cemetery. At the end of the ceremony, the mourners who had come all turned and headed back to their cars.

Harm turned over his right shoulder and saw the faint looking visage of a Marine standing some twenty-five feet away, seemingly watching the ceremony. With his head hung. About twenty feet behind him, under the shade of an oak tree on a hill side, Harm was the faint images of three Navy Lieutenants. Two were aviators, dressed in the service khaki uniform, the other was a young woman in summer whites. "Come on, Nate. We've gotta go." Harm could swear he heard the familiar mustachioed image wave to the young Marine in the foreground. The Marine looked up at Harm and winked at him before turning, walking up the hill and joining the other three. All of them turned away from Harm and headed over the crest of the hill.

2012 ZULU

ROSS HOUSE

LEESBURG, VIRGINIA

The house was crowded. Mac wasn't sure what her place was. She'd done the only thing that seemed even remotely comfortable when she got back to the house. She went to her guest room and laid the folded flag in the middle of the bed. It was odd, it created an empty feeling to think that the only thing that remained of Nate now was that tri-folded flag and a headstone at Arlington. Mac stared at it for a few seconds, not sure what to make of the flag or what came now. The few days from his death to the burial were the longest of her life. She'd never thought about life after Arlington, what it would entail or even so much as what came next.

Mac moved away from the bed and back over to the windowsill where the pictures of Nate resided. She picked up one from his university days and stared at it from a second. "I hated that picture." She heard a voice from the doorway. Over her shoulder she saw the smiling face of Sam Seaborn. "I always thought it made me look like his little brother."

"Hey, Sam." Mac offered weakly and Sam wrapped her in a big hug. "Did you write that eulogy for Billy?"

"All Ross." Sam couldn't help but smile. "How are you, Sarah?"

"I feel an overwhelming urge to crawl into a small hole somewhere and not come out until my chest stops feeling like my ribs are being ripped out one at a time." Mac answered. "It might never get easier."

"You don't have to get over it, just past it. Eventually, you'll be able to go a few minutes without thinking about him. You'll castigate yourself for it when it happens, but time will pass and it will happen again." Sam held her loosely. "And if you ever need someone to talk to about him any time of the night or day, just give me a call."

"Thanks, Sam." Mac sniffled lightly and gave him a tight hug. "He was lucky to have a friend like you."

"And a woman like you." Sam looked in her melting brown eyes before walking out of the bedroom. Mac sat there on the edge of the bed. This time she held a new photo in her hand. It was one of Nathan and Billy after a Pop Warner Football game. From the look of it, Billy wasn't more than nine or ten.

"Hi." The weak voice of Lily Ross appeared in the doorway. "Trying to remember the face?"

"I don't think I'll ever forget." Mac wiped her nose unceremoniously. She wasn't sure how to broach the topic, wasn't sure if this was the time or place but she had to know. It was a curiosity that was going to eat at her if she didn't know. Something about what Billy had said at the funeral, she wanted to remember Nathan, flaws and all. "They really do look so much alike."

"It's a Ross thing." Lily answered almost mechanically. Mac caught her eyes for a few seconds and with a no nonsense look, she broke Lily's facade. "How did you...I mean..."

"Your mother-in-law knows, too." Mac began to explain. "She told me."

"I wasn't sure, you know." Lily tried to rationalize. "For the first few years, it was hard to tell. All DNA testing would have told us back then is that Billy was a Ross. Well, that would have been true in either case. It's only lately...I knew it would catch up."

"What happened?" Mac asked.

"It was around Christmas of '87. Nate had rotated back from the Caribbean and was out with some of his Marine buddies and his older brother. His father was out on the West Coast on some inspection tour, his mother was at a conference in New York City. Beverley still worked in Philadelphia and Stephen was in Baltimore that night. I'd been dating Stephen for about five months or so, and Nate called me to come act as the designated driver." She paused and exhaled hard. "I went to the bar and picked up him and Preston. Both of them stunk of stale beer and cigar smoke. Preston passed out in the backseat and Nathan lugged him upstairs to the apartment. He was on the verge of passing out himself, I'll swear by it. I'd never seen him that drunk. But he was always the charmer..."

"And your boyfriend's brother." Mac reminded her in sharp tone.

"If you think I haven't chided myself for that a few dozen times by now, you're wrong." Lily fired back. "What he said, the way he said it. That stupid grin." Even Mac had to smile at that. She knew that grin. "Part of me figured it was safe to give in. He was drunk, too drunk. He'd never be able to actually perform, much less remember."

"But he did." Mac stated plainly.

"You know him, the family's overachiever." Lily remarked caustically. "I felt so bad. I couldn't look him in the eye for weeks."

"Did he know? Do you think..." Mac tried to get her hands around the story.

"No." Lily shook her head. "He called me the next morning to apologize for his calling me to come get him and Preston. Told me he didn't remember anything after he left the bar. Wondered why he woke up in his boxers."

"So, Billy definitely is..." Mac moved back to the original conversation.

"Oh yeah." Lily nodded and headed back for toward the door.

"I guess that explains why you showed up at his apartment that night after Stephen..." Mac couldn't finish the sentence.

"Probably." Lily nodded leaning on the door frame. "I really am sorry, Mac." She said, her lower lip quivering.

"Thanks, Lily." Mac nodded and got to her feet. She paced the floor anxiously. Eileen's proof yesterday had been one thing but knowing that it had happened, how it had happened She looked down at the picture. He didn't know, she knew that. Not to any degree of certainty anyway. If he did, she thought, there's no way he runs back into that fire. Then she thought for a second. Yeah, he does, because then he knows what it means. The people he went back in for, they were kids too, just somebody else's.

"Sorry, I haven't been by." The hushed voice of Harmon Rabb was the next to break her out of thought.

"You would have found me pretty bad company if you had." Mac told him, not looking up from the picture in her lap.

"I should be able to be there for you Mac, we were good friends once." Harm stood there waiting for her to respond.

"Harm, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to really talk any more." She told him. "I think I just need to be alone. But thank you for trying." There was no sharpness, no bitterness in her voice. Just exhaustion and repression. She hadn't cried, really cried since the few minutes after it happened in GWU Hospital. Harm nodded slowly and turned out of the doorway, closing the door behind him.

Mac laid on her side for what seemed like a few minutes, just staring out the window of the room. Watching the raindrops fall softly against the pane. There was a quietness, a stillness in the room that shutout the clamour and commotion of the floors below. She blinked hard a few times and watched as the red digital display on the alarm clock told her she'd been laying there for two hours. The door creaked open behind her and a heavy form came and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You probably want to understand the last few days." The voice of General Jack broke her introspection like headlights through a deep fog. "There is no understanding it. You're an incredible woman, Sarah and Nathan was lucky to have you in his life for as long as he did." Mac turned over to look at the slumped form of the elder man. "This family has never dealt with death well, probably because we've seen so much of it. I love my wife deeply, because we need her to get through these times, if it were up to the way I was raised, we'd all just shut off for weeks and months at a time when things like this happened. Eileen keeps things moving." He hung his head down and stared at her feet. "I wish I could help you." He looked down into her eyes, his own filled with uncried tears. "Or that I could have been there for you the way my wife and daughters have been. I've buried two sons now. It never really gets easier. I was angry at Preston for years for giving up on himself the way he did. I spent the last few days being angry at Nathan, mostly for leaving you behind. But also for putting the family through this again."

Mac sat up and put a hand on his back. "That's not necessary..." She tried to comfort him.

"He should have stayed out, Billy was right the first time. He did his part and we would all still have him." The General clenched his fists. "Sarah, it's gonna be rough going for a little while. But you're always welcome in this house. Eileen and I have come to think of you as a third daughter and we'll always be there for you."

"Thanks..." Mac gave him a quick hug and then a word escaped her mouth that hadn't been used in a positive way in twenty years. "Dad."

"Anytime, Sarah." The General got to his feet, squared away his jacket and headed for the bedroom door.

Mac headed for the door as well, deciding that it was time to wander the house. When she reached the main floor. She saw Billy and Chloe sitting together, talking. Chloe had her arm wrapped around Billy's shoulders as they heaved ever so slightly. Mac headed out to the back porch and then across the backyard into the grove of trees that backed on to a local forest. She walked an old dirt path under the delicate shower of a few raindrops. The path kept appearing under her feet as she headed further into the forest.

"Awa siwi odenac!" A voice called from in front of her. Mac looked up and saw Jed Bartlet before her on the path.

"Governor?" Mac inquired as the two neared.

"It's Jed, Sarah." Jed stopped in front of her. "And I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." Mac nodded as he gave her a quick hug. "What were you saying earlier?"

"Awa siwi odenac. It's an old Abenaki phrase meaning 'beyond the village'." Jed explained as they turned back toward the house. "It means a little more than that though. It's implication is that there is something beyond the things of man. At times like this, that phrase usually brings me some comfort."

"Oh." Was all Mac could think to say.

"I don't know if Heaven is a real place or just something we created to comfort ourselves when we're confronted by our own mortality. I like to think it's real, that our moments of high moral purpose are rewarded beyond whatever earthly gains we might or might not have received from them but I don't know that it is." Jed stopped. "All I know is this. The man who was mourned and buried today was my friend and was even closer to you. I know that he died doing an incredible thing that only a handful of men would ever even contemplate in the same circumstances. I know that that part of him is likely something that you fell in love with because I know it's something that made me respect him as a friend." Jed paused again. "I know that elections and everything else are insignificant and trivial in the face of that kind of action. I know that whatever becomes of the next year of my life, this country will not be what it could be, because he won't be there to help me run it. But I know this. I know that what that man did will never be forgotten. I know that whatever he did that day was far beyond the things of man. And that we should grieve because we lost someone that special, but we should also celebrate because for a time we knew someone that special."

"Thank you, Jed." Mac turned toward Governor Bartlet and hugged him again.

"No thanks necessary." Jed told her. "And if you ever need Abbey and I for anything."

"I'll be sure to call." Mac said with a weak smile.

That night Sarah MacKenzie laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling above her. Everyone else had long since left or gone to bed. She closed her eyes for a second and saw that stupid grinning face in a suit smiling back at her. Her stomach began to sink, her throat got tight and her cheeks collapsed. There would be no more holding it back. Sarah MacKenzie cried.


	22. You're Missing

_A/N: Sorry about the delay. The two chapters before this one really drained me, I need to charge the battery before writing this one and getting back into it. _

That morning Sarah MacKenzie's eyes opened just a little more slowly that morning, as though she were pleading that her body not release her from her dreams. She heard her alarm clock slowly taunt her with a double torture. Not only was her favourite radio station playing something by Bruce Springsteen, which took her back to their first date, it was playing _You're Missing_. There was no way she could do it. Her lips pursed as she sat on the edge of the bed. He was everywhere in this damn apartment. She looked around and saw pictures. The two of them at the concert a year earlier, the two of them at NAS Mayport during the Baxter trial, the two of them at the Georgetown commencement ceremony, the two of them at the DNC fundraiser, the two of them...the two of them...the two of them.

She half expected to look over her shoulder and find him lying there tangled in the sheet. But of course, when she looked he wasn't there. The urge to get up and walk around the apartment was rejected. The urge to move off the bed in any way was rejected. When she looked up at the entry way to her bedroom, she could have sworn that she saw that familiar 6'3" Marine form standing there is his favourite pair of boxers holding a cup of coffee and smiling at her. "Nate." She whispered breathlessly as she got up off the bed and headed toward the doorway only to have him walk away.

She followed him into the kitchen, watched him turn around and face her while leaning on the edge of the countertop. "Love you, Sarah." He smiled at her and then hid those familiar lips behind a coffee mug. It all seemed so real, maybe it was. Maybe all the craziness of the last few weeks, the attack, the fire, the ambulance ride, the...death, the hospital, the funeral, maybe that was the dream and she had finally awoken from it. She stepped toward him, fully expecting those big Marine arms to come down and wrap themselves around her. To hold her while she choked back tears and thanked God for just one more day. Even if it was just one more chance to talk to him and watch him make another off-the-cuff joke. One more chance to make things work. One more chance to say 'I love you'. .

But he disappeared. Just evaporated into thin air. Mac's nerves began to fray. She couldn't stand here in the kitchen without feeling his arms around her waist, or his warm breath cascading down the back of her neck. Mac was forced to turn in the doorway and face back out into the living room. But that didn't help her, all she saw was the times that he'd fallen asleep on the couch and she'd come in and lightly stroked his hair to wake him up, or the times that they'd curled up on the couch to watch movies on date nightsShe sunk to the floor, her back up against the couch and knees pressed into the coffee table.

All she could do is look over her left shoulder at the coffee maker sitting rather forebodingly on the counter. Her eyes focused on the microwave which seemed to mockingly blink the time back at her. She could damn the Admiral all she wanted for putting her on emergency leave until the end of the Christmas season. She was only spending one night here at this apartment and that was last night, then it was back out to the Ross house in Leesburg. She found that atmosphere supportive, even conducive to grieving but here, alone in her apartment. She never imagined how much this would hurt. The radio in the bedroom still treacherously pounded out _You're Missing_, bringing her back to that late January night and their first date at the Washington stop on _The Rising Tour_.

_Pictures on the nightstand, TV's on in the den  
Your house is waiting, your house is waiting  
For you to walk in, for you to walk in  
But you're missing, you're missing  
You're missing when I shut out the lights  
You're missing when I close my eyes  
You're missing when I see the sun rise  
You're missing_

Mac got to her feet and headed into her room, intent on making that radio stop it's incessant chattering, it's nagging reminder of a world that no longer existed for her. She powerfully dropped her fist on top of the radio and repeated the action several times in an attempt to make it stop. In an attempt not to listen to the lyrics which echoed so poignantly the truth of her current situation. The inability of her fist to make the radio stop led her to grab the radio, jerk it out of the wall and hurl hard against the opposing wall. The result of this action was a sizeable dent in the drywall on that wall and the smashing of her clock radio into a few dozen pieces on the floor below.

Unable to cope, unable to find something productive, she collapsed back on to the bed, her chest gave a mighty heave and she curled up to cry.

2100 ZULU

NATE'S APARTMENT

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Lily Ross had taken the young boys into DC for a little last minute Christmas shopping. Billy had stayed behind in order to...well, Billy Ross had successfully retreated into himself in classic Ross fashion. He didn't know quite how he was supposed to deal with it. When Sam had read the will out a few days ago, he and Mac had been the major recipients from the estate. That didn't make the pain any less. Mac had gotten the SUV, half the money from Nate's bank accounts, half the money from the life insurance policy and half the money from the incoming royalties of Nate's book sales from when Harper Collins had published his Gulf War diaries earlier in the year. Billy had got the other half of the money from the accounts, from the life insurance policy, from the royalties along with getting the '32 Ford hot rod, the classic Harley motorcycle and his uncle's old collection of Springsteen records.

Right now, he sat on the couch in the apartment that his family had been using. He let the hard, despairing strains of _Darkness on the Edge of Town_ roll over him as he stared at a half open bottle of wine on the living room table and rolled his uncle's old sniper rifle around in his hands. He knew how to shoot. He'd been hunting since he was 10 years old with his uncle and grandfather, he knew how to shoot and damn well. Next to the bottle of wine on the table sat a two page letter written in his uncle's hand. The teenager picked it up and read it over for the umpteenth time in the last few days.

_Dear Billy,_

_If you're reading this, then the first thing you should probably know is I wish I had more time to spend with you. This is all advice that I probably should have dispensed in person but it'll have to do in this form. The first thing I can tell you is make friends, good friends. A good friend is the most invaluable resource you can have, you can trust them, you can depend on them and you'll share a million good memories with the best of them. Collecting friends is like collecting rookie baseball cards, forty years from now, there'll always be a few you're glad to have._

_On women, I'm perhaps not the wisest sage but I have learned a few things in my years on this planet. Good women are measured by the same standard as good friends, nothing more and certainly nothing less. Know when a woman is good for you, know when she isn't and know the difference. Always respect women. Even if you can't like them at the moment. Cowards raise their hands in anger, remember that. Be romantic. Little gestures matter just as much as the big ones. If something seems different about her, and you're not sure what it is, it's her hair. For you, hair is just something the keeps you from looking like a Chihuahua. For her, it's a fashion accessory and she changed it to please you. If you compliment it, even if you aren't crazy about the style, you'll save yourself a world of hurt. It's her effort that counts, not necessarily the finished product. When it rains in the summer, take her out and dance in it. She'll think you're crazy or drunk, that's fine, she'll also tell all her friends about it the next opportunity she gets._

_Which brings me to an important point, learn to dance. You're an athlete, you'll catch on quick. The important part is learning to relax anyway. Women equate co-ordination on the dance floor with co-ordination in other areas, it's important to be good. Every once in a while, surprise her and let your stubble grow a little bit. Not too much, beards and mustaches are a tough look to pull off. But a little stubble in the right context can add to the ambiance of a good evening. You'll argue, sometimes that's good. But make sure it's worth it. Sometimes she just wants to be angry and you're the most ready target and sometimes you've earned it. When she just wants to be angry, know how to handle it. When you've earned it, knowing what you did wrong is just as important as knowing how to properly apologize. Consult your mom on how to properly apologize. _

_Big gestures are important. My one observation from years of bachelorhood is to know what cities you enjoy. The standard line is that every woman wants to go to bed in San Francisco and wake up in New York. But if any guy can do that, what's going to make you stand out? Enclosed in this envelope is a list of my hotel, restaurant and clothing connections in every major American City as well as London, Paris, Venice, Marseilles and Barcelona. If you need them, just tell them how you're related to me. They'll take care of you but be sure to tip them well. Whisking a woman away for a weekend is always a good idea, but make sure you're planned for it. Remember, a good woman is a Queen and she deserves the best man you can be. Be him._

_Listen to your grandfather. I didn't when I was your age and I learned all the lessons he was trying to teach me anyway. Life's funny that way. The same advice goes for your mother. Treat your brothers well, they'll connect you to your past and tell you the truth when no one else will. Teach them to be good men, pass along what I've told you. Look after your mom. She's going to need you but remember that you're still a young guy and there are some things that even though you want to, you can't do. _

_Perhaps now it's best to pass on a word on tastes and the finer things in life. If you're going pollute your lungs, as I did from time to time, don't go cheap. A man who's willing to spend three dollars on a cigar and a man who's willing to spend thirty dollars on a cigar are very different men. There's also an issue about quality. Cigars are like fast food, with similar health results, you will ultimately get what you pay for. If you want to be a wine drinker, years are more important than price. A cheap bottle from a good harvest year is worth twice as much as an expensive bottle from a bad year. Know your years and you may save your bank account. If you're going to pick a beer, pick a brand and be loyal. Beer drinkers are more discriminating then they're often given credit for. Beer is only to be drank from a bottle, and how a man drinks a beer (bottle, mug or can) and how he holds his beer will tell you something about him. What it will tell you, well you'll figure that out on your own._

_A word on loyalty is necessary here. There is no more valued or underrated human trait. Practice it. The underrated traits are the ones that mean the most to people, because they never go away. Be loyal to your wife, because if you're not, you'll never be able to survive the most important human encounter you have everyday, the one you have when you look at yourself in your bathroom mirror. Be loyal to your barber, you do not want to anger the man whose job it is to cut your hair. I have a regular barbershop in Anacostia, "Leroy's", go in there and tell Leroy who you are. He'll treat you right. If you're going to be a whiskey drinker, pick a label and be loyal. Whiskey is the gateway into your poet's soul. In your anger, it burns you. In your sadness, it clears your mind. In your happiness, it widens your smile. _

_Follow good men. But make sure they're tested. The price of following bad men is often more costly then one can imagine from the outset. Following good men sets in your mind the standards of leadership you should expect from yourself when you're ready to lead. Remember that nothing worthwhile in life ever comes easy, the work you put into something is what gives it its value. Work hard to make sure that you're worthy of other people's hard work. Being fool's gold is a reputation no one wants. _

_It's okay to have regrets. Everyone does, it's the nature of being imperfect. You have room to improve, the ability to improve and return to a task shows fortitude. Another valued and underrated trait. Anger is healthy, but should be expressed appropriately and never into a whiskey glass or beer bottle. Be able to relax at the end of the day. Be able to have fun, especially on the days where you're not sure you want to. Often as not, those days end up being the ones you remember when you look back. Don't take yourself too seriously, your odds of having a good day are the same as your odds of having a bad day, 50/50. And guess what? That's true for everybody else on this planet._

_If you can remember even half this stuff, you'll be miles ahead of the game. Just remember that I love ya, kid. And I'll be looking out for you._

_Your Uncle Nate._

_P.S. Two more articles with regard to the women thing. One of the most important words you'll ever know is "foreplay" understand it and employ it. Two, for the love of God, do not let the word "PMS" pass your lips when she's angry, even if it is PMS._

He smiled as he read the last part. This was the part he'd probably miss the most. It wasn't enough to just become a man any more. It was the desire to become the kind of man that his uncle had been. The kind of man that his cop father had never been. He let the rifle fall from hand to hand for a few more seconds before the doorbell rang and Billy got to his feet and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He walked over and opened the door to find his aforementioned cop father standing there. "You came." Billy unconsciously touched the rough polyester of the strap on his shoulder.

"You called." Stephen Ross stepped into the apartment. "What do you want to know?" Over his midnight blue blazer, Stephen Ross put his hands on his hips.

"I know Metro has the terrorists." Billy unslung the rifle from his shoulder. "On some bogus District charge, mostly so you can hold them." He sat on the couch. "When are you going to move them to Hoover?"

"You're fifteen." Stephen looked to the stucco ceiling. "What do you think you're going to do?"

"What the system won't." Billy locked in the bolt action on the rifle. "600 yards. No sign, I'll bury the rifle where they'll never find it. And even if they did, argue emotional trauma and jury nullification. I'd never be convicted."

Stephen Ross faced the ivory walls of the apartment. "You've thought this through? You wanna do this?"

"I have." Billy rested the gun against the coffee table.

"No, you haven't." Stephen walked toward him. "Listen, I hated the son of a bitch because him and Preston were golden children. I had to live in the shadow of my parents' love. But even I know he wouldn't have wanted this."

"Fuck off." Billy's dark eyes pooled.

"You've got nerve." Stephen pulled the gun away and tossed it toward the kitchen. "You think you're a man now because he's not here, is that what you think?" He stood over the boy he'd raised as a son. "Maybe I could never be General Jack, I know I tried to be. But you could never be your father, if you think this is what he'd want." The rifle spun and slid across the linoleum of the kitchen.

Billy got to his feet. His frame slightly taller, if not thicker than Stephen's. "I don't want to be you." He looked Stephen right in the eye. "I want to be better." Billy took a swing at Stephen who ducked the punch and grappled with the young man. Both of them fell to the carpet. They tangled for the combat knife, they knew was concealed in a strap at Billy's ankle. It was a toss and turn, the DC cop and the fifteen year old All American rolling on the carpet struggling for it until they ended up in the entry way and Billy managed to draw the black blade from the high side of his ankle and press it against Stephen's throat.

"You know, I was never sure until just now." Stephen grinned maniacally. "The storm in your eyes, that lightning in your pupils. You're torn between vengeance and guilt. You're his."

"The hell?" Billy lightened with a curiosity in his eyes. The door opened and Mac stepped into the apartment.

"Billy!" She shouted and the young man fell off Stephen, resting back on his ankles.

He slid the knife back into his holster and hung his head. "What did you mean?" Tear rested on the crest of his cheeks as Billy looked up at Stephen.

"You're his." Stephen brushed off the front of his jacket. The understanding was dawning on him as well. "The looks I figured, maybe you were just like your grandfather. The tall, dark thing was maybe a family trait...but it's the eyes." Stephen backed toward the door to the apartment. "He always had it. So much conflict. A search for redemption but an acceptance of hatred. Vengeance and guilt. Ask your mother."

"When are they moving them?" Billy asked again, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"That, I won't say." Stephen opened the door. "As an example I was never much. But now that you know to live by his, I'd rather you not have mine." With that, the DC detective closed the door behind him as he exited the apartment. Billy pressed his eyes closed. The tears fells and his chest heaved as he knelt in the middle of the apartment.

"Billy, what..." Mac started to say but he shook his head.

"It should all mean something at least." The young man answered. "Anything at all, but it should mean something." He was overtaken by a sniffle as he looked up at Mac. "Am I really his? Like actually? Or was he just trying to make it hurt more."

Mac didn't know what to say. Was it her place to tell him what she knew? Casting a glance over her left shoulder she found a picture. One of him well before her, one of the few he had in his apartment. Just after he graduated from Penn State. She picked it up and guided Billy to a mirror in the bathroom. "Hold it next to you and ask yourself if you know." She told him.

In a few seconds he knew. There became no avoiding it. He broke down and looked at Mac who cradled those broken shoulders and hung visage into her frame. "Did he know?" Billy asked weakly.

"I don't think so." Mac shook her head as she hugged him. "But he did love you, kiddo. If he knew, like honestly knew, I think he'd still be here. But he wouldn't want this." Billy pulled away and Mac ran a caring hand over his cheek. "He'd want you to have YOUR life, not his." She hugged him again.

"But I'm...I'm ..." Billy offered but Mac rebuked.

"You're a part of him but you're not him." She stated simply. "Don't think that you need to do this." She pushed the hair back out of his face very maternally. Struggling to restrain tears all her own, Mac gave in to her inner temptation to curse the heavens for bestowing this particular task upon her. She had never seen a young man collapse so completely and thoroughly as Billy did. He gripped Mac's sweater and cried hard into her shoulder. Once again, she wanted her anger and her moment with the people she loved so that they could know that she was going through it too. But here, as she cradled the the teenage boy in her arms, she forced all her emotions down and let him cry.

He drained himself of any tension that he'd once had that day. Mac guided him over to the couch and let him lay down. She covered him in an old wool blanket and let him prop himself up on the pillow against the arm of the couch. When his eyes looked to have closed beyond the point of re-opening, Mac lightly stroked the hair back out of his face and smiled. Maybe a part of Nathan would always be here. It wasn't quite as vivid as the pictures in her apartment or the images she'd seen of him this morning in her apartment but there was some similarity, Stephen had been right. That same maelstrom of contradictory emotion in Billy's eyes as well.

She headed into Nate's old room and collected some of the sweaters and other clothes that she'd left at his apartment from months ago that she'd never come back to get. She tossed them in the sea bag that she'd brought with her and headed for the door. As she made it to the front door, she ran into Lily coming into the apartment. Mac took her aside into the kitchen.

"Stephen came by earlier." Mac whispered to Lily. "Got into a bit of a fight with Billy."

"Shit." Lily cursed under her breath. "Is he...is he okay?"

"Yeah." Mac nodded. "But there's more." She exhaled heavily and placed her hands on her hips. "He knows."

"Knows what?" Lily asked innocently only to receive a stern look from Mac that caused her immediate comprehension. "How did?"

"Stephen gave voice to some of his suspicions." Mac explained. "Billy's probably looked himself in the mirror and wondered a few times lately anyway. Should probably talk to him when he wakes up."

"Thanks, Mac." Lily smiled at her as Mac reluctantly headed through the door to the apartment for what might have been the last time.

_Once I thought I knew  
Everything I needed to know about you  
Your sweet whisper, Your tender touch  
But I didn't really know that much  
Joke's on me, It's gonna be okay  
If I can just get through this lonesome day_

0057 ZULU

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION

It was December 23rd, a bleak and dank one at that. Harm had driven around the city trying to think of something to do. Too late to head out to California and even if he went, Mom and Frank likely wouldn't be there. He knew that the JAG crowd would be trying to have some version of a Christmas gathering together but it seemed so weird to try and finagle an invitation to that particular event. He grabbed a few things from the grocery store on the way home so that he could make dinner for the next few days. When he opened the door and turned on the lights, he saw a trail of smoke heading into the kitchen from the living room. Harm dropped his bags on the island in his kitchen and turned toward the living room.

There he saw Nathan Ross. A little paler, a little thinner than he remembered but sitting there in a Saville Row cut suit, with a cigar in one hand and a tumbler of whisky in another. "Aren't you dead?" Harm asked as he strode into the room.

"Yes." Nate sucked back a little whisky as he answered. "Legally and physically."

"So, I'm hallucinating you right now?" Harm wondered as he took a seat opposite Nate.

"Is that what you think?" Nate grinned as he pushed the cigar between his teeth. "You think the post-traumatic stress from those ejections and crashes has finally gotten to you?"

"It's certainly one explanation." Harm offered. "But I supposed you've got another one."

"I do." Nate grinned. "But you're a smart one, you'll think of something."

"You're a ghost?" Harm chanced.

"We're getting closer." Nate blew out a cloud of smoke. "Keep going."

"I'm out of ideas." Harm shot back.

"I'm an angel." Nate answered as he leaned back in the chair. Harm let out a laugh that bordered on contempt.

"You're an angel?" Harm questioned.

"I died saving seven people from a fiery inferno. I was in the Lord's high graces when I arrived in heaven." Nate explained. "Mac's guardian angel, to be more specific."

"You don't look like an angel." Harm eyed him suspiciously.

"You're the only one who can see me." Nate told him as he rose from the chair. "But everyone else could see these if I unleashed them in public." Nate tensed the muscles in his arms and a large pair of white feathered wings shot out of his shoulder-blades. The wings gave off a powerful, all illuminating glow. Nate relaxed his arms and the wings collapsed again and he settled back down into the chair. "It's worth pointing out that my wings are bigger."

"Very funny." Harm laughed. "I'm not gonna ask you what heaven's like."

"Thank God." Nate's eyes rolled back in his head as he took another long drag on his cigar.

"Or what God's like." Harm continued and he watched the angel sitting opposite smile. "But as Mac's guardian angel, I am compelled to ask why you're here."

"The one person upon whom Mac's future happiness is now most incumbent, is you." Nate stated simply as he leaned forward in the chair. "Where else would I be?"

"If that's true, it's an excellent argument." Harm answered. "I'm the only one who can see you, why not Mac?"

"Because in order for her to move on, she needs to let me go." Nate explained. "But she also can't come to you too soon, or she'll regret it and hate you. If you don't give her time to grieve, she'll hate you for what she would see as an emotional manipulation. The Fates have deemed you worthy of walking an emotional tightrope, think of me as the net."

"So, I'm stuck with you for a while?" Harm questioned. "But you don't have physical form?"

"Only to you." Nate told him. "If anyone were to observe this conversation from outside, they would think you were talking to yourself."

"I don't recall you being much of a whisky drinker when you were alive. A wine man, that I remember. Even a beer man." Harm eyed the tumbler in Nate's left hand.

"I was never a scotch drinker, I'll cop to that." Nate blew another cloud of smoke. "But Bourbon, Irish Whiskey and the occasional Canadian Club now and then."

"Would you do any of it differently?" Harm walked over to the kitchen and poured himself a drink.

"At the time? I wouldn't have." Nate shook his head. "But in recent days certain information has come to light which makes me believe that had I known it at the time, I likely would not have had the courage to brave the flames again."

"Did you have any idea that this information existed before?" Harm sat back down, like his opposite, a cigar and tumbler in hand.

"No concrete information." Nate answered. "Many years ago, I had a lot of sleepless nights worried about whether or not this particular matter was possible or not. In the intervening years, when it was never mentioned, I assumed that my fears were unfounded. Ah, if I knew..."

"So, are you really just here to give me guidance about Mac?" Harm looked over Nate's shoulder.

"And other matters, if you need me too or any matters indirectly related to Mac." Nate leaned back. "As an example, you are about to hit a crossroads in your Naval career. Some day, relatively soon, I won't tell you when but the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs will call your office and invite you to lunch at the Army-Navy club. You will invariably accept because you're a smart Naval officer. He'll lay it on the line for you. He'll tell you that you can either run flight ops until your fifty-five, maybe sixty at which point you can retire a Captain and move into a cushy job in the private sector. Or he'll tell you that you can move to the Pentagon as the Staff Judge Advocate for the Joint Chiefs. Put yourself in line for the Judge Advocate General's chair and retire at sixty a two-star Admiral."

"Why are you telling me this, this choice has nothing to do with Mac?" Harm's curiosity peaked as he leaned against the back of the seat.

"Doesn't it?" Nate was smug and self-assured. "Do you really think that Admiral Percy Fitzwallace is going to be as easy on you as AJ Chegwidden has been? You're gonna have to choose, Harm. What do you want more, Mac or your Air Wing? Because if you take that job with the Joint Chiefs, you won't have time for quals, less time for your Stearman, no investigations on carriers, little junkets in fighter jets if you get on the Skipper's good side." Nate took another puff on his cigar. "So, don't be amazed when the choice comes down, my friend, Mac or flying."

_We'll let blood build a bridge over mountains draped in stars  
I'll meet you on the ridge between these worlds apart  
We've got this moment now to live then it's all just dust and dark  
Let's let love give what it gives  
Let's let love give what it gives _

0118 ZULU

SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, DC...

Mac drove through the District on her way back to her apartment. She wanted to just get home and get everything packed so that she could drive out to Leesburg and back to the Ross house tonight. She wanted it to be that easy but as her route took her by George Washington University, Mac could see off in the distance a vigil being maintained that had been maintained by students ever since that afternoon. She couldn't help but drive toward it. Hundreds, maybe even two thousand candles gathered in front of the ash, rubble and ruin of what used to be the headquarters for among other things, the campus NROTC program.

Getting out of her car she walked through the field of small lit candles to the front. She past faces that she would recognize, many she would never see again. When she got to the front, she found the firefighters of 14 Truck still looking through the rubble trying to uncover, not even bodies at this point just parts of bodies. Something to identify a missing person, something to give a family closure. The most moving display was on the lawn in front of the crumbling structure. A small memorial, forty-three white crosses, each with a name and each with a picture and each with a burning candle in front of it. She went looking for his almost out of instinct. Searching each row and column for that smiling face. The same one she had been so sure she'd seen this morning in her apartment, the one that seemed to haunt her in every photograph.

She came upon it, standing alone at the back of the pack, closest to the building, not included in any row of seven or column of six. On the front was his service photo, him as a young Marine second Lieutenant in 1987. His name, his dates of birth and death on the cross. There was something else. A white ribbon with words written in a beautiful script, tied around the cross. "In our hearts, Nathan Ross, the hero of December 15th." The lump in Mac's throat that she felt she had long since destroyed had risen as if from the dead and was occupying its usual place.

She ran. She needed to get the hell out of here. There didn't seem to be logical solace here. There didn't seem to be any solace here. They were grieving, they were kids, scant few of them were probably anywhere near this building that day but here they were. And what were they grieving and what the hell did they have to grieve. A few of them, maybe they lost some people in this fire. But a lot of the victims were children, the faces in the crowd where in their late teens and early twenties. Maybe a few were parents by accident but not the few thousand faces here. All they could be grieving, all they could feel would likely be a loss of innocence, a cherry popping for maturity.

She wanted to resent them. She wanted to question their pain openly, contemplate how they could feel the intensity of what she'd gone through in the last week...but what the hell good would it have done her? She turned her car back out on to the roads and made for Georgetown, wanting just about any possible leeway in getting home. Green lights, she prayed fore green lights all the way to her apartment. Anything to get her out of the District faster. She got them, green lights, one after another until she was about to leave the entertainment district in Georgetown. She was caught at the red light for what seemed like forever. Looking kitty corner from her car, she saw the blinking neon colours emanating from a bar window. There it was, that lonely distant call, that ancient friend from her forgotten past. She turned the corner and pulled the car up against the curb. Extending one long leg out of the car, she climbed out of the car and walked slowly toward the crimson swinging birch door of the bar. Instantly greet by a rush of smoke, she pushed it out of her face and glided toward the long teak bar.

"What'll it be, Miss?" The bartender's brogue cut through the smoke. Mac stared through the smoke to the refracted light coming off the mirror and the coloured glass of the bottles stacked up in front of it. "I say, what'll it be, Miss?"

Mac looked up through the tear fog in her eyes at the bartender. A man of his early forties with typical thick, salt and pepper Celtic hair, a wrinkled white shirt and a black tie tossed over his left shoulder. She licked her lips and stared at the bottles behind him. "Give me tonic..." She whispered, wondering how she wanted to end that request.

"Come again?" The bartender questioned politely.

Mac shook her head. Her fingers became numb, her throat was raw from the crying, she needed it. Desperately. She wanted it, craved it. There was no fight left in her nerves. "Give me a vodka tonic." She answered with a little more timber. The bartender nodded and turned toward the bottles. She reached over the bar and tugged on his shirt causing him to turn back around. "And a Jameson's rocks."

The bartender smiled. "Waiting on a friend?" He asked her with a sly smile.

"Toasting one." She stared over his shoulder into the glass mirror behind the bar. Into her mind flooded all the images from the campus. The images of the candles and crosses of the rubble and ruin, of the solitary tattered American flag flying above the site. She thought about that morning in her apartment. The taunting of the pictures, reminders of a happiness she could no longer know. Then her orders arrived and the radio over the bartender's head continued playing the same Springsteen songs from _The Rising_ that had today become the soundtrack to her sorrow.

_Now there's tears on the pillow  
Darlin' where we slept  
And you took my heart when you left  
Without your sweet kiss  
My soul is lost, my friend  
Tell me how do I begin again?  
My city's in ruins  
My city's in ruins_

0319 ZULU

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION...

"I can't believe I had to die in order to become Time Magazine's Man of the Year." Nate's ghost leafed through the issue of Time in front of his face.

"Why are you still here?" Harm was washing dishes behind the island in the kitchen.

"Heaven's boring this time of night. Sinatra's done his opening set and the encore doesn't start until 2am." Nate answered, never taking his eyes of the magazine. "Besides, I'm not actually supposed to leave until someone else shows up at this apartment or calls this apartment. Heavenly Regulation number J56, never leave your contact alone after your first meeting."

"You can't be serious." Harm stopped scrubbing the pan for a second.

"I was given specific instructions from my supervising Archangel on that one." Nate shook his head. "I don't know what happens if I disobey regulations in heaven but considering what they did to the last angel who was known to, I don't imagine the end result is very good."

"So, I can't get rid of you?" Harm started scrubbing again. A knock came at the door.

"No, but that might." Nate closed the door and both of them walked toward the door. Nate was the first to put his hand on the doorknob. Harm tossed him a cross look. "What?"

"I'm the only one who can see you, right?" Harm questioned.

"Well, yeah." Nate answered.

"Then don't you think, that if you open the door and no one's on this side of it, the person on that side of it is gonna be curious?" Harm explained as he leaned up against the door.

"Holy shit, the Navy knows something." Nate stepped back from the door. Harm nodded and opened the door.

"Mac!" Harm looked really surprised as he swung the door wide. "What are you doing here?"

"I just figured..." Mac huffed as she walked into the apartment. "I could walk home but that would take a while......or I could come visit my old friend Harm." She kind of loped around the apartment with a dazed expression on her face. The smell of alcohol permeated off of her.

"Tie one on, Marine?" Harm was guarded asking the question.

"I just couldn't ignore it any more." Mac smiled at him as she leaned on her elbows on the island. "I forgot how comforting it can be." She extended a goofy smile as he walked over. "That warm feeling as the vodka slides over my tongue, the smooth feel of the cocktail glass in my palm, aching for my fingers to wrap around it, cradle it." Her hips gave a soft swagger as she stumbled toward him. "There's something very familiar, very sensual about a good drink, don't you agree." Mac stood inches from him, those pools of doe brown gleaming dimly behind their alcohol induced fog.

Harm began to stammer a response, looking feverishly around the apartment for his supposed angelic companion only to find the figure had disappeared, vanished into thin air. "Why don't we get you some coffee okay, Ninja-girl." Harm put a tentative hand on her shoulder before moving past her into the kitchen.

"Tsk, tsk, Harmon Rabb is still a prude." Mac's smiling was a little more taunting. "Still so righteous, so pure."

"Mac....." Harm looked over his shoulder. "Don't start."

"I'm just trying to have a conversation." Mac retorted.

"No, you're trying to get under my skin." Harm shot back. "Why, I don't know."

"Just trying to see if I know you as well as you know me." Mac took the coffee mug he offered and had a sip. "Still can't make Marine coffee, huh?"

"Did you just come here to insult me?" Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And what did you mean by knowing me as well as I know you?"

Mac squared herself up and changed into a deeper voice, indicating a male impersonation was forthcoming. "Sturgis, any man who's ever loved Mac or wishes he was." Mac finished and looked at Harm. "Ring a bell? You're still right."

"Mac..." Harm's expression sank.

"No, I mean you were right, don't apologize." Mac covered with a flippant wave of her hand. "Guess that's what kept you alive all these years, you never fell in love with me." She gave a caustic snort.

"Mac, do we really have to do this now?" He retreated behind the island in the kitchen.

"Why not?" Mac inquired.

"Well, you're drunk." Harm went on the offensive. "When you wake up in the morning, you're already going to hate yourself for that. I don't think we should add anything to the list."

"Sanctimony's not a pretty colour on you." Mac taunted as she moved around the island.

"Yeah, because being a mean drunk is so becoming on you." Harm retorted almost on reflex.

"So, I had a drink. So what?" Mac angrily tossed at him.

"Who are you really mad at, Mac, huh?" Harm stood tall. "Can't be me. You haven't talked to me in person since the wedding. What are you really mad at, huh?"

"Well, let's see." Mac licked her lips. "I'm pissed at Lily for lying to Billy about Nate being his father. I'm pissed at Stephen for intentionally trying to hurt the boy emotionally because he's an emotional abusive bastard. I'm pissed that everyone else seems to be dealing with this so goddamn easily..." Mac's eyes began to tear up. "I'm pissed at.." She gnawed on her lower lip to try and contain herself. "I'm pissed at him...." Harm knew who she was talking about. "Because he left me alone and I'm pissed..." She sobbed lightly. "I'm pissed at myself because I can't...I can't be stronger."

Harm stepped forward and hugged her. "No one expects you to do this alone, Mac." He whispered into her hair. "I'll be here."

"I'm sorry I..." Mac started but she was overcome by sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and a few seconds later, the physical results of that feeling were all over Harm's t-shirt and hardwood floor. "I'm sorry for that."

Harm couldn't help but laugh as he peeled the shirt off. "What happened to not adding things to the list?" He joked. "Finish your coffee."

"No, Harm, I'm gonna..." Mac ran toward the bathroom and a few seconds later, Harm could hear the familiar sounds of alcohol taking the route from whence it had come earlier in the evening. He peeled the t-shirt off and scrubbed it off before taking it to the washing machine. He stood over Mac for a few seconds before kneeling down and holding her hair back. He sat there on the tile of the floor, as she purged herself of the drinks that had taken such a vicious turn.

"All done, Marine?" He asked as Mac finally raised her head from the bowl.

"I think so." Her timid voice came through the tangled mess of hair.

"You got a little..." Harm indicated the front of her shirt and Mac looked down in embarrassment. "Don't worry, I'll get you something to change into." He told her as he galloped off into his room and grabbed an old pair of USNA sweats. He tossed them to her. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." Harm told her and Mac nodded weakly before proceeding to change. He waited in the kitchen for a solid twenty minutes waiting for her to come in and join him but when she didn't he got worried. Jogging up into his bedroom, he found the Marine passed out on her stomach on his bed.

"Oh by all means, make yourself at home, Mac." He joked to himself with a smile. He covered her with the comforter before turning toward the living room and deciding to spend the night on the couch.

All things considered, he slept pretty well that night and even got up at 0915, which was comparatively late. "Better get some coffee and water ready." He heard the voice from last night wake him. Harm opened his eyes to find his deceased friend's angelic form occupying his living room space again. "She's gonna have a hangover and she's gonna need to re-hydrate."

"Did you know she was gonna come here drunk?" Harm was groggy as he sat up.

"Yes." Nate nodded.

"Then what am I supposed to do now, smart guy?" Harm peered through one eye at the foggy image.

"Be her friend, talk to her and comfort her." Nate coached. "It's what she needs most."

"Well, if you're so smart..." Harm started but was interrupted.

"Harm, who're you talking to?" Mac asked from the stairs into his bedroom. Harm looked at the chair opposite. It was now empty. He looked at Mac.

"No one." He shook his head, got up and went to the fridge. "Aqua minerale." He took the bottle and handed it to her.

"Thank you." She touched a subconscious hand to her left temple. After sucking back half the bottle, she decided to talk. "It occurs to me that I might have said some terrible things to you...last night."

"You're forgiven, Mac." Harm gave her a serious look. "You needed to vent, Mac. It's not healthy to bottle all that stuff up."

"It's just.." Mac pursed her lips. "I was supposed to be with him and Gunny that day. And I...I keep thinking that if I was, maybe it comes out differently, ya know?"

"Can't think like that, Mac." Harm leaned over the island. "It'll just make you angry unnecessarily. I tried living with that kind of guilt. It doesn't solve anything, eventually it just makes you crazy."

"Thanks, Harm." She put her hand on his forearm. "Times like this, I'm reminded how incredibly lucky I am to have a friend like you."

"Thanks, Mac." Harm smiled fondly as he covered her hand with one of his own. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Harm." She beamed a smile back at him. "And tell your dad I say Merry Christmas when you go to the Wall tonight."

"I will." Harm nodded lightly.

_Hard times baby, well they come to tell us all  
Sure as the tickin' of the clock on the wall  
Sure as the turnin' of the night into day  
Your smile girl, brings the mornin' light to my eyes  
Lifts away the blues when I rise  
I hope that you're coming to stay _

_I'm waitin', waitin' on a sunny day  
Gonna chase the clouds away  
Waitin' on a sunny day_


	23. Human Touch

Sarah MacKenzie strode back into JAG Headquarters for the first time since December 15th. She'd never thought about how she'd left the office on that day. Pushing open the door at 0755, she found her desk was a mess and likely had been for three weeks. Emergency leave was up, Christmas leave was up, even if she didn't necessarily think returning was appropriate yet, she knew that sitting around feeling sorry for herself sure wasn't beneficial. Sinking into the chair behind her desk, she tried to compose herself and determine how she'd push on today at work and eventually settle back into a groove. She was the Admiral's Chief of Staff after all, they were looking to her for leadership and as an example.

The first task was organizing her desk, getting things neat and orderly and squared away. Her hands piled old case files and divided them by priority. The office was going to be completely organized by the time the Admiral came in and found that his Chief of Staff was back at work. When he rolled in around 0820, the Admiral looked to his right and saw the Colonel's light on and his Chief of Staff tucked in neatly behind her desk. The Admiral understood what was going on, her resiliency and her fortitude, he expected her behind that desk when he walked in that morning. "Tiner, tell the Colonel that I want to see her in my office in about fifteen minutes, before the morning staff call."

"Yes, sir." The yeoman nodded to his Commanding Officer. The Admiral walked into his office and set his briefcase down next to his desk. The Christmas season at the Ross house was less joyous than it had originally promised to be. That was to be expected considering the events of the previous week. The JAG Christmas event on Christmas Eve had proven far more enjoyable. Bud and Harriet were gracious hosts as always, Commander Turner had come with Senator Latham; Tiner had come, Captain Ramirez had come, Gunny had come and thankfully Lieutenant Singer had not come. Tiner strode across the bullpen and tapped on the Colonel's door. "Ma'am, the Admiral would like to see you in fifteen minutes, before staff call."

"Thank you, Tiner." Mac nodded at the Petty Office before returning to stack on her desk. Work continued for about a minute. "I said, I'll be there in a second, Tiner."

"Good to know he's got someone else to bug again." The familiar baritone replied from the doorway. Mac looked up to find the tall form of Commander Sturgis Turner standing there.

"Oh, Sturgis, sorry about that." Mac squared herself up and rose from behind her desk.

"It's alright." Sturgis waved her down. "So, the Mac Attack is back, huh?"

"How long have you been waiting to say that?" Mac smiled at him fondly.

"Thought of it about two weeks ago." Sturgis answered simply. "You ready to get back into cases?"

"Hope I haven't lost my touch." Mac nervously ran her finger along the top of her desk.

"You heard about Bud's promotion, right?" Sturgis was double-checking.

"I did, Lieutenant Commander, it's about time." Again she smiled. "You're working with him?"

"No, sadly Bud's been given Lieutenant Singer as a partner." Sturgis shook his head.

"Oh, Harriet must be thrilled about that." She felt a genuine laugh creep out of her throat.

"No more than Bud, I assure you." Sturgis laughed himself. "Captain Ramirez seems to be fitting in nicely, she really picked up her game the last month. The Admiral's impressed, he might even be considering her for accelerated promotion."

"Ahead of Singer?" Mac looked surprised. "If I was the Captain, I'd be having someone else taste test my food for the next little while."

"I'll pass the advice along." Sturgis laughed again. "It's good to have you back, Mac."

"I'm not sure it's quite good to be back yet, Sturgis." Mac answered honestly. "But maybe it will be soon."

"I know it doesn't seem like you see the other side of the tunnel yet, Mac." Sturgis tried to advise her. "But if you keep driving, you'll get there."

"Thanks, Sturgis." Mac smiled again. "But I really should go see the Admiral, it's probably been fifteen minutes."

"Sure." Sturgis stepped out of her office and headed next door into his own. Mac strode across the bullpen with a commanding purpose until she reached the Admiral's outer office.

"The Admiral wants you to just go right in, Ma'am." Tiner looked up from his paperwork for a second to give the Colonel the direction before returning to his work. Turning right, Mac opened the Admiral's door and slid inside.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Mac came to attention in front of the Admiral's desk.

"Take a seat, Colonel." The Admiral indicated the chair to Mac's right. She took a seat and looked across the oak desk at her Commanding Officer. "How are you feeling, Mac?"

"Like I should be back at work, sir." Mac stared down at her hands, she was fidgeting slightly. "Don't think any more leave time would be constructive, sir. I'm not all that enamoured of the sight of the inside of my apartment right now."

"I wasn't surprised to find you at your desk this morning, Mac." The Admiral slid his spectacles off the end of his nose. "You're a good Marine and God knows you've got the temperament, but you've got to be fair to yourself."

"Due respect, sir, I think I am." Mac nodded curtly. "I'd appreciate not being weaned back in lightly, sir. Don't feel the need to guard me."

"Wasn't intending on it, Colonel." The Admiral shifted in his chair and corrected his posture. "That's why I'm handing you and Captain Ramirez this." He tossed a file on to his desk in front of Mac. "The ACE Commander for the Marine Air-Ground Task Force at Quantico got a little too 'hands-on' with one of his female plane captains."

"Sounds like a simple case of sexual harassment, sir." Mac looked through the file.

"It would be." The Admiral started. "But there's a twist. The Lieutenant Colonel in question doesn't deny that he did something wrong. He's actually willing to admit that he fraternized with Staff Sergeant Evans, the plane captain in question, but he's saying that the incident in this particular complaint was consented to physical contact."

"He's saying he didn't commit one crime but is alluding to the commission of another transgression, sir?" Mac's puzzled expression mirrored the one that the Admiral had worn himself upon first reading the brief.

"It would appear that way." The Admiral sighed. "Suits a lawyer and investigator of your particular skills, don't you think?"

"I suppose, sir." Mac was still weary.

"Good, the Lieutenant Colonel was called into the Pentagon today, you can interview him there. Why don't you send Captain Ramirez out to Quantico to deal with Sergeant Evans?" The Admiral advised.

"Thank you, sir." Mac rose to her feet. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Dismissed, Colonel." The Admiral nodded and watched as Mac turned on heel and departed his office. Even after being dragged through hell, she was still the same Marine.

1445 ZULU

NAS PAX RIVER

PATUXENT RIVER, MARYLAND

Harmon Rabb was trapped behind a desk of his own. COMNAVAIRLANT had assigned him TAD to NAS Pax River to assemble the squad for the Patrick Henry's new Air Wing while Captain Loftness interviewed the remainder of the ship's new officers at Norfolk Naval Base. Normally, Harm's business would be conducted at NAS Oceana on the Norfolk Naval Base but Harm suspected that the continued interest of the Joint Chiefs in his services kept him close to DC. "Captain Rabb, sir?" Harm's temporary yeoman sounded through the intercom.

"Yes, Petty Officer." Harm answered simply.

"Admiral Fitzwallace on line one for you, sir." The yeoman replied.

"Thank you, Petty Officer." Harm closed the intercom and punched the button for line one. "Admiral, sir, it's a surprise to here from you."

"I imagine it would be, yes." Admiral Fitzwallace's voice came through the phone. "Captain Rabb, tell me how would you feel about meeting me at the Army-Navy Club for lunch and some drinks today?"

"Well, sir, I make it a point to never disappoint four stars. Especially when they're the Chief Military advisor to the President." Harm answered with a forced grin on his face.

"Good then, I'll see you there at 1300." Admiral Fitzwallace chuckled as he hung up the phone. Harm hung up his end and sat back in his chair.

"I love it when I'm right." A familiar voice sounded and Harm looked across his desk at the image of Nate Ross sitting in the chair in his Marine uniform.

"You can change clothes?" Harm inquired, trying to avoid discussing his phone call with the Admiral right away.

"I'm on base, I figured it was wise to follow decorum." Nate reached into his breast pocket a produce a cigar.

"No whiskey?" Harm questioned.

"A little early." Nate answered around the cigar. He blew smoke out into the air of the office. "So, Fitzwallace..."

"Just because it happened doesn't mean you were right." Harm countered and Nate shoulders bobbed as he chuckled.

"I have better intelligence sources than you do." Nate withdrew the cigar from his teeth. "So, what's it gonna be. I gave you an advance scouting report that this might happen, it happened, you've had time to make a decision."

"I didn't take you seriously." Harm shot back quickly. "I was still operating under the assumption that you were some kind of PTSD hallucination that was finally kicking in. And can you blame me? I don't think I've seen you since Christmas Eve."

"You haven't needed me, because Mac hasn't needed you to see me." Nate answered using the kind of angel logic, Harm felt he was going to have to get used to.

"So, you're telling me that I can get rid of you simply by heading back to the carrier?" Harm chanced.

"It's not exactly that simple." Nate stuck the cigar back between his teeth. "Yes, you going back to the carrier would get rid of me. But you would just be haunted by something else. Remember one thing, if you choose that road, the only solace you'll have is in your air wing. Think you can live with that?"

Harm leaned back in his chair. Of course, the only other worldly visitor he'd ever been able to verbally communicate with would be relentless in busting his chops. "Is it really fair that I have to choose between Mac and flying?" Harm posed the question in a philosophical tone rather than a self pitying one.

"Is it fair?" Nate got out of the chair. "Probably not. But you have to think about it this way. You were presented with an opportunity earlier in your life where you could have had both..."

"Sydney Harbour." Harm whispered as if to himself.

"Exactly. But you passed up that opportunity, for whatever reason and do you really think that circumstance would allow you to be presented with the same opportunity again? You think that's really fair?" Nate leaned against Harm's filing cabinet. "Your options were going to limit as you got older anyway. You're forty, Harm, you could fly until you're what? Maybe 51, 52? You wanna look back on your life at 53 and say 'Wow, look at all the great traps I made?'"

"Okay, good point." Harm shook his head. "So, as I understand your purpose, you're like half Jiminy Cricket and half Bob Hope?"

"Pretty much." Nate laughed. "But I'll never show up with a drink before noon."

"Just to keep your advice clear?" Harm chanced.

"Nah, it normally takes me that long to recover from the previous night." Nate joked and Harm laughed. The door opened to his office and Harm's yeoman walked in.

"Someone in here, sir?" The yeoman inquired with a curious look. "I heard you laughing and it appeared you were talking to someone."

"Yes, Petty Officer, I just hung up with Admiral Fitzwallace." Harm answered without missing a beat.

"But, sir, I..." The yeoman pressed but Harm cut him off.

"That will be all, Petty Officer." Harm was curt.

"Yes, sir." The young man nodded and closed the door behind him. Harm looked to the spot next to the filing cabinet where the sarcastic angel had once stood only to find nothing there. "I'm gonna figure out how he does that." Harm laughed lightly to himself again.

1735 ZULU

THE CAPITOL GRILLE

WASHINGTON, DC

Admiral Chegwidden sat down to lunch with his father-in-law. Even though he was taller than the former Marine Commandant, the Admiral still felt somewhat intimidated just by the man's presence. When the General had suggested this lunch, AJ had realized that the General's "suggestions" were taken much the same way in the Ross family pecking order as they had been taken when he was a Marine four-star; orders meant to not sound like orders.

The two of them had met at the restaurant, exchanged pleasantries and proceeded to be seated for the meal. It started the way you'd expect with older men, small talk about family and sports. The General's Philadelphia Eagles were in the middle of another NFC playoff run but the Admiral's Cowboys were long since relegated to the land of the 'also rans'. Navy was out of the running for National Bowl Game, which meant there was little joy for the Admiral in terms of sports until the Cleveland Indians started Spring Training in three weeks.

"Jack, while I don't mind being treated to a steak dinner, especially in the middle of what was shaping up to be a hell of a boring Monday, I am curious as to why I'm here." The Admiral took a sip of the Cutty Sark that the waiter had placed in front of him.

"Well, you're married to my daughter now..." The General started as he squared himself up in his chair. "As such, you're a part of the family. I will do right by you if I think I can, so that you can do right by my daughter." The General took a swig from his Talisker. "It's the way it works in this family, might be tough to get used to, I understand."

"It's definitely old fashioned." AJ settled back into the chair. "What did you have in mind?"

"Next month, the Vice President in charge of legal affair and General Counsel for Mueller-Wright Aviation is going to be relieved of his duties after four years." The General started to explain. "As the Executive Vice President of Mueller-Wright, it's my responsibility to find the next person in that chair."

"So, you're offering me the position?" AJ moved right to the heart of the conversation.

"You've got experience as a JAG, experience dealing with Congress, contacts at the Pentagon and your history as a SEAL. Makes you a supremely qualified candidate." The General explained simply.

"Sir, I've had offers to leave JAG before..."AJ started but the General raised his hand.

"Not like this you haven't." The General shook his head. "You've got a new wife, you're considering starting a family. I know what you make as a two-star, being as I was one once. I know what my daughter deserves, this would be your starting salary."

The General wrote a number on a napkin and slid it across to AJ who picked up the folded napkin and opened it. "Four hund..."AJ felt the air catch in his throat. "Four hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars?"

"That doesn't include a seventy-five thousand dollar Christmas bonus every year and stock options that, if the were sold today, would earn you pretty close to another three hundred thousand." The General sat there confidently. "I didn't come her to play ball with JAG, I came here to call you up to the Majors from AAA ball. You've been a lawyer for years, AJ, you've served your country admirably and you've got a full Navy pension coming to you in a few years. You've never earned private sector money in your life."

"Never needed to." AJ was glued to his chair.

"Time sensitive offer." General Jack took another sip of his Talisker. "I've got to know in two weeks."

"I'll do what I can to have an answer." AJ nodded as their meals arrived. "Was that all you called me down here for?"

"Not entirely." The General shook his head. "I'm concerned about my grandson. Did Eileen, tell you and Beverley about..."

"Yeah, we know about Billy's...um, condition." AJ nodded.

"I'd love to be able to spend some time with him, throwing the ball around and the like, but AJ, I'm 70 years old. Is there anyone you know who could serve as a role model or a bigger brother figure?" The General inquired. "My first inclination was to ask you of course, but you're a newlywed and I figured that you would appreciate a little time to yourselves."

"Consideration noted, sir." The Admiral couldn't help but laugh. "I think I have just the candidate."

"Well, see if you can get yourself and that person a free day next week, we'll go deer hunting." The General cut through his filet. "Thankfully, a for a retired Marine, the use of a gun doesn't take much out of ya, regardless of age."

"Amen to that, sir." AJ chortled and took another swig from his Cutty Sark.

1302 ZULU

ARMY NAVY CLUB

WASHINGTON, DC

Harm had arrived just before Admiral Fitzwallace. He'd been shown to a small little table by the window near the bar. He'd ordered a Sam Adams and waited for the Chairman to show up. "You're at lunch on the Navy dime and you're drinking Sam Adams?" The deep baritone of Admiral Fitzwallace greeted Harm. "Clearly you're not a Washington animal just yet."

"Not sure I ever want to be one, to tell you the truth." Harm set his beer back down on the coaster.

"Johnnie Walker Gold." Fitzwallace told the waiter as he sat across the table from Harm. "Rocks"

"Yes, Admiral." The waiter headed back to the bar.

"We're here to talk about your ability to be a Washington animal, Captain." The Admiral leaned forward. "You're probably well aware by now that the Joint Chiefs have been attempting to get your services as our Staff Judge Advocate."

"I am." Harm affirmed.

"Good, then I can cut to the chase. The job you did with the rape case in Manila and then the job you did on the friendly fire case, a work of political art." The Admiral smiled. "Is it true that you helped Nate Ross hike some twenty miles on a badly broken leg?"

"He pretty much did it all his own." Harm commented. "Shot himself full of Morphine, helped us fight off insurgents, even manned the door gun on the helo when I fixed her up."

"You've got a knack for Washington, even if you don't like it. You're a top notch litigator, your record speaks to that and you're coming from the fleet." The Admiral took his drink from the waiter.

"Which means what exactly?" Harm shrugged as he took a drink from his glass.

"Captain, when the brass spends a bit too much time inside the Beltway they come down with a kind of psychosis that causes them to forget that most of the fighting and dying is done miles away from the Potomac." The Admiral set his drink upon its coaster. "Bringing in a line officer, one whose recently earned a Navy Cross no less, will remind a lot of my colleagues about the exact cost of the decisions and recommendations they're making. And being as you're a lawyer..."

"I'll be more effective because I'm expected to make my voice heard." Harm got the conclusion. "Well played, sir."

"Well, it's always good to know that they didn't give me the big job for nothing." The Admiral joshed as the waiter handed he and Harm their menus. "Wife's got me on this heart healthy thing. If I even look at red meat, she takes it as a suicide attempt."

"Better for you." Harm commented under his breath.

"You're not a vegetarian." The Admiral stated in disbelief. Harm searched for something to say but Fitzwallace just shook his head. "I'll try not to hold it against you."

"Well, thank you, sir." Harm laughed. "If I may ask, why do you want me so badly? There have to be JAG officers just as qualified. It can't just be my coming from the fleet. Sturgis Turner has spent time as a submariner, Sarah MacKenzie served in Bosnia. Those are just two off the top of my head and I think both are soon due for promotion anyway."

"Yeah, but your already being a Captain does cut down on the paperwork." The Admiral joked as he ordered his lunch. "Turner's a submariner, so's the CNO. It doesn't get me a new voice in the room. He's due for promotion anyway. You'll be almost 55 before you ever make Rear Admiral, if you ever do and I know when the Navy has a good officer and it can't afford to let you wallow as a Captain stuck in some back office at a Naval Aviation command."

"What about Sarah MacKenzie?" Harm asked, noting that the Admiral hadn't addressed her in his last explanation.

"Colonel MacKenzie is a fine officer. But Captain, you know what the brass is like." The Admiral sank back into his chair. "Her record, the allegations that were put against her early in her career, she'll see her full bird but there isn't much more in her future."

"Sir, you and I both know that there are men in the service who've done far worse and seen their careers go unharmed by that fact." Harm let his index finger dance lightly over the rim of his glass.

"True." Fitzwallace nodded. "But I'm not here to argue about that. Actually, I'm not here to argue at all. Listen, I picked you. The CNO backed me. All I'm here to find out is whether you want the job or not."

"Sir, you could cut orders to..." Harm started but Fitz shook his head.

"Not the point, I don't want any senior officers in my command who don't want to be there." The Admiral leaned forward on the table. "You've been a great officer, a great aviator, a great Commanding Officer for your Air Wing and prior to that, a great lawyer. Now I need you to be a great advisor to the Joint Chiefs, are you my got to guy on this one or do I have to look for a better man?" Fitzwallace was clearly unused to being so questioned by a lower ranking officer, and so he challenged Harm.

Harm squared his jaw as their food arrived. "No, sir, I'm your man on this one." Harm nodded slowly.

"Good to hear." Fitzwallace wore a small smile. "Your new office is at the Pentagon in the E Ring, I'll cut your orders and have them in your office by tomorrow morning. You start a week from next Monday." The Admiral dug into his lunch. "So are you an NBA fan? NFL fan? Baseball fan?"

"Los Angeles Lakers, San Diego Chargers and San Diego Padres." Harm answered with respect to each league. "And you, sir?"

"Nets, Giants and Mets." The Admiral answered. "The only luck I seem to get from any of those teams lately is with the Giants and Nets."

"More luck than I get from the Padres and Chargers, sir." Harm spread a little vinaigrette salad dressing over his lunch.

2051 ZULU

MCB QUANTICO

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

Mac and Captain Ramirez had spent the day interrogating the alleged suspect and victim in this case along with the base CO and anyone who might have been a witness. They were going to run down the last interviews of the day. Mac would take Lieutenant Colonel Edelman in one room while Captain Ramirez took Staff Sergeant Evans in another room.

"You want to tell me exactly what happened?" Mac tossed a folder down on the table between them.

"I told you this morning, Colonel." Colonel Edelman stared forward at the table.

"No, you told me what you thought would save your ass." Mac charged. "You figured that confessing to one crime would clear you of suspicion for another one. Especially since, in this case, fraternization is the lesser charge."

"Colonel, that is not what happened." Colonel Edelman protested.

"Then tell me what happened, Colonel!" Mac raised her voice.

"I told you. Staff Sergeant Evans and I were having an affair, Colonel. I can even prove it." Colonel Edelman produced a receipt. "It's from the Shady Pines Motel, off I-95. It's dated two weeks ago. They should still have security tapes from that day, right?"

"I'll check." Mac took the receipt from the table. "Shouldn't take more than an hour." Mac had interviewed the Colonel earlier today at the Pentagon. It seemed like in the hours since, he'd become increasingly more worn, frazzled than he had been this morning when she'd first talked to him. "Stay here until I get back."

"Will do, Colonel." Colonel Edelman nervously played with his hands. Mac headed for the door to the room. Just before she stepped through the door, her suspect piped up. "Colonel MacKenzie, have you ever had someone you thought you loved just abandon you like this?"

The question caused Mac to stop in her tracks. She took a deep breath and turned over her shoulder and looked at Colonel Edelman. "Not maliciously." She answered, her tone notably softened. "But I think I have some understanding of what you're going through, Colonel."

"Then you should be able to sort this whole mess out properly, right?" The Colonel offered.

"I'll do my job." Mac told him stoically as she stepped through the door. There she found her younger counterpart waiting for her.

"So, did the Colonel give anything up?" Captain Ramirez questioned.

"Possible evidence." Mac showed Elena the receipt. "I'm gonna run it down, shouldn't take too long."

"You still want me to interview Sergeant Evans without you?" Captain Ramirez checked with the Senior officer.

"Something about this doesn't feel right." Mac looked over Elena's shoulder. "Interview Evans, I'll run down the receipt. If it clears out, I'll call you so that you can use it in your interrogation. Keep your cell phone on."

"Even if they did have an affair, it doesn't mean he wasn't harassing her." Ramirez pointed out.

"That's true." Mac nodded. "But the fact that she didn't come clean about it tells me that there was a reason that she didn't tell us about the affair. If you can break her, you'd be doing everyone a favour and we could wrap this case up today." Mac headed down the hall toward the parking lot. She had a fondness for Ramirez, the young officer managed to nearly perfectly merge empathy and toughness in conducting an investigation. Mac had yet to face Elena in the courtroom but she'd heard from Sturgis and Singer and even Bud who all had, that the young Marine Captain's poise and ability to defeat the emotional stakes of a case made her an adept prosecutor.

Ramirez strode into the interrogation room and sat down across the from Staff Sergeant Evans. Elena didn't do anything, she just sat opposite from Evans and stared at her, tapping her fingers on the table. "Aren't you going to ask me something?" Evans inquired after a few moments of nearly unbearable silence.

"Should I?" Ramirez offered simply as she just sat eying Evans.

"Listen, I don't know what you've heard." Evans began to charge.

"What do you think we've heard?" Ramirez got up out of her chair and went to stand behind Evans. The presence of the JAG lawyer in her blind spot, was a little unnerving for Evans.

"That I was sleeping with Colonel Edelman." Evans answered.

"Were you?" Captain Ramirez leaned up against the back wall.

"It wasn't like that." Evans offered. "I mean, when you spend that much time with someone, in close quarters some times, a bit of, you know, tension can develop and you're not sure to do with it."

"You didn't say anything about that this morning when we talked." Ramirez went on the offensive. "Were you lying, Sergeant?" Ramirez stepped forward until she was hovering over Evans' right shoulder.

"Not really, Ma'am." Evans began to wither.

"You know what I think, Sergeant?" Ramirez made sure her tone became slightly more incriminatory. "I think you had an affair with Colonel Edelman, but you couldn't handle it and you wanted to break it off. But when the time came to tell him, well you couldn't bring yourself to do it, so you got JAG to do it for you. Is that what happened?"

"NO!" Evans answered through tears. "No, ma'am."

Elena's cell phone rang and she picked it up. "Captain Ramirez."

"It's Colonel MacKenzie." Came the voice on the other end. "I've seen the security tape from the date stamp on the receipt. They were there together."

"What names did they sign in under?" Elena questioned.

"Wilma and Fred Flintstone." Mac answered with a chuckle. "I'm having the log sent over to the lab at NCIS to be matched against examples of their handwriting."

"Alright, I'll see you in a few minutes, Colonel." Captain Ramirez closed her cell phone and turned back on the alleged victim. "So, Sergeant, do you want to tell me what you and Colonel Edelman were doing at the Shady Pines or should I give you another one of my theories."

Evans broke. It was to be expected by this point. She wrote out a confession as to the true nature of her complaint and signed it. Captain Ramirez filed it with the rest of the case file, the final touches of which would come tomorrow when the handwriting analysis was faxed over from NCIS. She and Mac strode through the parking lot at Quantico to their government issue car for the ride back to JAG. "Is that it?" Ramirez questioned.

"Well, Evans will probably face charges for filing a false complaint. Edelman will likely get non-judicial punishment for fraternization. The letter of reprimand in his record will likely prevent him from obtaining further promotion, effectively ending his career." Mac explained as she settled in behind the driver's seat.

"Pretty high price to pay for a little sex." Ramirez commented.

"Yeah." Mac nodded solemnly and turned the car toward the road.

0014 ZULU

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm had gone back to Pax River after his meeting at lunch with Admiral Fitzwallace. It had been kind of a surreal experience to sit at his office for COMNAVAIRLANT, knowing that come Friday, he'd be pulled from the fleet, get a week to get everything in order so that he could join the JCS staff. He sent notice to the Skipper that he was transferring out of the fleet and stopped conducting his interviews for new members of the Air Wing. The new CAG would be transferring in by the end of the week.

Once he got back home, Harm flipped on some Django Reinhardtand sat in a chair in his living room just letting the music pour over him. A little jazz, not too much and that it was guitar jazz was important right now. No mineral water, not strong enough. No whisky, too strong. He opened a bottle of wine. The hard and soft strains of the instruments overlapping each other, melding with the acids and tannins in the red wine. He was half expecting his angelic visitor to walk through a wall or descend through the ceiling. A knock came at the door that startled Harm out of his low lying fog. He set his wine down and scrambled toward the door.

"Admiral!" Harm opened the door and found AJ Chegwidden on the other side.

"I heard about your taking the job at the JCS, figured I could stop by with a bottle of congratulations." The Admiral handed Harm a bottle Johnnie Walker Black.

"Well, thank you, sir." Harm took the bottle and welcomed the Admiral into his apartment. "Social call, sir?"

"Of sorts." The Admiral hung his coat on the rack by the door. "Wanted to invite you to a little deer hunting expedition with the General, my nephew and I."

"Why me?" Harm wondered.

The Admiral settled down in a chair in Harm's kitchen. "The General and I had a talk at lunch today, and he's worried that Billy's losing direction in the wake of..."

"His father's death." Harm finished when he noticed that the Admiral was unsure how to finish that thought. "Mac told me."

"Yeah, well. The kid has a good support network, but the General's getting up there and I don't know him that well." AJ stated. "You've been where he is, I figured you could empathize with him. Let him know that there's light on the other side of what he's going through."

"Took me a long time to find that light, AJ." Harm grabbed his wine glass by the stem. "Not sure how much help I can be."

"Just having someone to talk to I think would help this kid. He's a little older than you were when you lost your father, maybe that makes it easier for him or maybe it doesn't but a sympathetic ear probably wouldn't hurt." AJ theorized. "You're a good role model, you were friends with his dad. You've got a lot of the same values."

"I'll come hunting with you next week." Harm offered. "But I'm not promising anything, AJ."

"Knew I could count on you, Harm." The Admiral got up and gave Harm a pat on the shoulder. "Now, I think my wife will kill me if I'm any later in getting home. Especially since dinner's probably ready. You really should come out for dinner some time, Harm."

"Well, that's an invitation I can accept, sir." Harm smiled as he walked the Admiral to the door and shut it behind him.

"You're gonna do it." A familiar voice stated from the kitchen and Harm turned around to find Nate standing there.

"Figured you were gonna show up the second he left." Harm mused.

"He's a good kid, Harm." Nate began to explain. "It's a lot to put on you, especially when it isn't your responsibility, but I don't want him losing his direction."

"Annie Pendry once told me that it was tough, not giving a boy didn't have his father what he wanted." Harm pondered aloud. "My mom's expressed similar statements."

"And I know his mother. Lily couldn't be tough on him before, she really won't be now." Nate continued. "AJ was right you're a good role model."

"Gee, thanks." Harm gave a sarcastic chuckle and smile. "You see my lunch meeting?"

"Yup." Nate nodded. "Always knew you'd do the right thing, Harm."


	24. Walk Like a Man

AJ and Harm drove up to the Ross family hunting cabin up in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Shenandoah National Park. AJ had brought a couple of Winchester Model 12 shotguns with a few dozen rounds of buckshot ammo. "You're not worried about going into the woods with your father-in-law and high powered weapons?" Harm joked as they pulled up in front of the cabin.

"I'm already married to his daughter. I figure that makes me close enough to be safe." AJ ruefully joked.

"Probably does." Harm got out of the SUV. "Might make me expendable though."

"I think you're shooting with the kid. You should be safe." AJ laughed as he handed Harm a shotgun and some ammo.

"The kid's only the son of one of the top Marine snipers of the last fifty years." Harm commented as he slung the shotgun over his shoulder.

"Well, good morning gentlemen." The General strode out of the cabin carrying an old Winchester Model 1895 in hand but resting back against his right shoulder. "Go inside, put on a set of cammies and a hunting vest."

"Sir?" Harm was the first to question.

"You're not going out without them." The General loaded some ammo into his gun.

"Morning, guys." Billy came walking out, camouflage on and paint on his face. A classic Winchester Model 70 complete with a Swift model 687M scope. Harm finally got a sense of what his mother must have experienced last October when he'd come strolling up her driveway sporting a mustache. Harm could have sworn Billy was Nate right then. Maybe his brow was a little less furrowed or his hair a little less fading in colour.

"Billy, Jack, this is Captain Harmon Rabb Jr." AJ did the introductions.

"Yeah, we met at your wedding, Uncle AJ." Billy stepped forward and offered Harm his hand. "Good to meet ya, Captain."

"You too, Billy." Harm shook his hand.

"Yes, I think we've met before." The General shook Harm's hand. "Sergei Rabb's brother?"

"Yes, sir." Harm smiled at the positive mention of his brother.

"That young man's gonna be a damn fine Marine when he's done at Annapolis." The General smirked. "Alright, well go in and grab your outfit and then get your ass back out here." The General cocked his gun. "It's 0640, we're losing daylight, come on."

"Losing daylight?" Harm questioned as the two of them walked into the cabin.

"They're Marines." The Admiral joshed as the two of them pulled on camouflage overcoats and bright orange hunting vests.

"Still don't think that the kid could do some damage with that rifle?" Harm zipped up the vest. "You notice it was the only gun with a scope on it?"

"Yeah, I'm not entirely sure that's a coincidence." AJ shook his head as he slung his gun back over his shoulder. "Tough to say no to a kid without a father, I guess."

"Yeah." Harm slung his shotgun over his shoulder and followed AJ to the door. The door opened and the two of them met up with their Ross counterparts in front of the cabin.

"About 400 yards down the trail, the ridge opens up. AJ and I will take the low side of the ridge." General Jack loaded some ammo into his rifle. "Harm, take the boy and take the high side. This time of winter, ya never know where the deer are gonna be on the mountain. Especially with that thaw earlier this week. No tracks."

"Expecting snow again by this afternoon though." AJ cut in. "If it starts getting thick, find the trail and head back to the cabin, the last thing we need is to call out the SAR teams."

"Will do." Billy loaded a round into the gun and slung it over his shoulder. "Alright, come on, Captain. As Gramps likes to say, we're losing daylight. We've got about two miles of brush to hump through until we get to my favourite nest."

Harm groaned and shook his head as he followed the young man along the trail to the ridge. "My uncle told me about you a bit." Billy smirked as they climbed the ridge. "Said you went bushwhacking in Southeast Asia when you were my age."

"That was a long time ago." Harm shook his head. "My dad went down in Vietnam, Christmas Eve of '69. He was declared MIA. Summer of 1979, I went looking for him after I got in touch with a former Marine Colonel named Francis Stryker."

"Cool." Billy's voice told Harm how impressed he was.

"It was stupid. Worried my mother unnecessarily. Damn near got myself killed." Harm huffed as he tried to keep pace with the teenage All American. "Why are we going off the trail?"

"We're not. That's an old logging road they used to use to get up and down the mountain. This is and old bird dogger's trail Back when Virginia was still a colony, there were farms up here and they'd use these trails to hunt wolves and coyotes to keep them away from their livestock." Billy crouched to the ground and examined a few broken pieces of of foliage and twigs on the bottom floor. "Something bigger than a deer came through here. All the Coyotes crossed the mountains around the Revolutionary War. So, probably a pack of foxes. Some time late last night."

"Uncle taught you good, huh?" Harm remarked as he crouched next to Billy.

"I asked him to." Billy's eyes wandered up the trail. "Not a fox, a black bear." He stalked forward and Harm came up behind him. "Five distinct, sharp holes in the ground in a kind concave arch pattern. It's a bear claw. There have been deer through here."

"How so?" Harm asked.

"Tracks are recent but it's winter and the bears are supposed to be hibernating. Only reason a bear would have for coming out of hibernation is.." Billy was cut off.

"Is food." Harm answered. "I thought black bears didn't eat during hibernation."

"They're not supposed to." Billy shook his head. "Nah, someone's been baiting. Deer or the bears. Nest is about another mile up the trail."

Harm groaned again as they started up the trail. "You realize that by the time we get back to the cabin, your uncle and grandfather will have bagged a couple bucks all their own, right? All we'll have to show for the day is a lot of exercise."

"Nah, we'll have the big buck." Billy laughed. The two of them trudged through the brush for another few minutes. "What time do you make it?"

Billy covered his eyes and looked up into the sky. "0720." He answered.

"I thought only Mac could do that." Harm offered.

"No, I don't have an internal clock." Billy answered. "Triangulate the position of the sun and the shadows that certain trees are casting. Works like a sundial."

"Okay, you can't be that good." Harm shook his head.

"Can if you grow up around Marines." Billy grinned. "Mac's a pretty cool stepmom to have."

"Stepmom?" Harm questioned.

"You know who my dad was, right? Like you really know?" Billy checked over his shoulder. Harm just nodded. "Well, if all had gone to plan, he and Mac would have gotten married and technically, she would have been my stepmom. She doesn't seem to mind the title."

Harm laughed. Mac would kind of enjoy that title. Even if it applied to the illegitimate son of a man who'd been cruelly taken from her. "Here's the nest." Billy pointed to a platform covered by a canopy sitting about fifteen feet up in the thick branches of an ancient elm tree. Billy climbed the branches up into the nest. Harm followed with another groan.

"I'm getting too old for this shit." He muttered.

"Nah, you're just too Navy for this shit." Billy challenged.

Hours passed, the two of them just surveyed the landscape below. Harm would tell Billy about Academy life and Billy would recount his football exploits, his favourite being his play in this year's US Army All American game, even though his Team East had gone down to Team West 31-27. "Time, Marine?"

"0935." Billy moved his eye from the scope only temporarily. "Give or take a few minutes."

"Thought you said there would be deer." Harm joshed the teenager.

"Average land speed of a deer, even over uneven terrain is still faster than ours. They could be in West Virginia by now." Billy peered through the scope. "All depends on whether they knew the bear was tracking them."

"Suppose they knew?" Harm asked.

"Then they're long gone. Any deer within twenty miles is probably gone too. If they didn't know, then if the deer were here last night, they're still here." Billy explained.

"Like you said, someone's baiting them." Harm peered over the barrel of his shotgun.

"Got one." Billy whispered. "A thousand, maybe a thousand fifty yards out." He removed his scope and handed it to Harm. "Between 12 and 1, between the maples."

"Good eye, ten pointer?" Harm handed the scope back.

"Twelve." Billy stated confidently as he fixed the scope back on.

"A thousand yard, free floating snap shot at a moving target and you think you can hit it?" Harm inquired disbelievingly.

"You don't think so?" Billy chuckled. "Fifty bucks?"

"How about forty?" Harm negotiated, slightly unnerved by the boy's confidence.

"Done." Billy grinned and lined up his shot "Adjust for wind..." He whispered. "Breath steady..." He slowed down his adrenaline. "And fire...between...the heartbeats." Billy was about to squeeze the trigger when a gunshot went off and the deer scattered. "The hell? Could be my grandpa or uncle, the acoustics below the ridge really carry."

"The muzzle on a Winchester doesn't sound like that." Harm told him. "That sounded a bit like a 9mm."

"Doesn't sound like it's more than maybe a few hundred yards away. Maybe southeast, near the ridge." Billy turned and focused his scope on that area. "Harm, you might want to see this..." Billy removed the scope and handed it to Harm. "Looks like a couple PO2s dragging a body. What kind of morons where their uniforms off base while committing a crime?"

"Victim's in the service, too;dogtags with silencers around his neck." Harm handed the scope back and pulled out his cell phone.

"Who're you calling?" The teenager questioned.

"NCIS." Harm told him. "Get someone up here to start investigating." There was the sound of another gunshot and Billy watched the two PO2s return fire using their 9mm. Harm put the call into NCIS while Billy watched them through the scope.

"I make it six hundred, maybe seven hundred yards, near the logging road." Billy whispered. Then he saw the PO2s raise their gun at what appeared to be a shadow moving through the brush. Billy lined up his shot and fired. Dead off accurate, the thirty aught six Springfield cartridge punctured the Petty Officer's hand and scattered them down the ridge. Billy shouldered his firearm and headed off the nest.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harm questioned sternly.

"They might have found Grandpa and Uncle AJ, I'm sure as hell not gonna let them kill them." Billy answered. "You wait for NCIS if you want, but I'm going after them." With that, the young man disappeared down out of the tree and into the brush.

1432 ZULU

NCIS HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

"McGee!" Gibbs walked into the bullpen. "I need you to trace an incoming call."

"Sure thing, boss." The junior agent squared u at his desk. Gibbs punched a button and Harm's call came through on speaker phone.

"Captain Rabb, you're up." Gibbs announced and Harm's voice came through the phone.

"Agent Gibbs, I'm calling to report shots fried in the woods near Shenandoah National Park." Harm began to explain.

"Why call NCIS?" Gibbs offered.

"Shots were fired by two Navy PO2s." Harm answered.

"Captain Rabb, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, how do you know that?" Tony stepped toward his boss's desk.

"I'm on a hunting trip with a friend and a few members of his family. My partner for the day scoped out the two of them. Measured it out as between 650 and 700 yards near the fall off the ridge." Harm answered.

"According to the topographic map, sir, the ridge is presently 672 yards from the Captain's current location." McGee piped up.

"Your hunting buddy's pretty good, Captain." DiNozzo offered. "Marine sniper?"

"No, but his hero was one." Harm answered.

"Boss, got an exact fix on the location." McGee told Gibbs.

"Captain, we're on our way." Gibbs told him. "Are the other members of your hunting party with you? The last thing we need are these kids taking hostages."

"Well, we might have a slight problem with that Agent Gibbs." Harm stated hesitantly. "There were four members of the party when we set out from the cabin this morning. We split into groups of two, figured we'd cover more ground. My partner believed that the other members of the party were in danger so he fired a shot, I believe that he hit one of them and he went off in pursuit."

Gibbs huffed. "Captain, the names of the other members of your group?"

"General Jack Ross, Admiral AJ Chegwidden and Billy Ross." Harm answered, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"Boss, I might be wrong but isn't that a former Marine Corps Commandant and the current Navy Judge Advocate General?" DiNozzo chanced, gearing up behind his desk.

"For once, DiNozzo, you're not wrong." Gibbs tossed a sarcastic smile at his senior agent. "McGee, Todd, gear up, we're headed up to the Blue Ridge mountains." Grabbing his stuff, Gibbs walked through the squad room toward the elevator with DiNozzo immediately in tow, Agents Todd and McGee not too far behind.

"Boss, you and the General's sons served in Desert Storm together, didn't you?" DiNozzo stood waiting for the elevator with his boss.

"Not Desert Storm, I served with the General's son Nate in Panama and then again on drug interdiction missions in Colombia." Gibbs answered.

"Wow, boss, I think that's the most descriptive answer you've ever given me." DiNozzo smiled for a second before the familiar impact of a hand on the back of his head was felt.

"Don't get used to it, DiNozzo." Gibbs stated as the team crowded on to the elevator.

"Gibbs, do you plan on telling us how you plan on tracking a trail that's hours old and could be covered over by snow before we get there?" Special Agent Caitlin Todd inquired as the elevator took them down to the garage.

"Simple" Gibbs nodded. The elevator ride was silent for a few seconds as the other members of the team waited for Gibbs to continue.

"Well?" Kate pressed.

"Figured we'd get there before it started snowing." Gibbs answered, the elevator doors opened and Gibbs led his team toward the car.

"But if we've got a body, what about Ducky and...." Kate started but Gibbs obviously overheard her.

"Already notified." He shouted over his shoulder and pointed to his left. Kate looked and saw Ducky and Palmer loading up the van.

"But how..." Kate was left scratching her head.

"Don't ever doubt the Gibbs." Tony commented as he moved past her.

1516 ZULU

SOMEWHERE IN THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS...

"Just had to let the kid go, huh?" The same familiar voice echoed in Harm's ear.

"Morning, Nate." Harm greeted the angel. "Nice to see you, too."

"That's my son running around the mountains, trying to track those two maniacs!" Nate's voice was panicked.

"Trust me, I just watched him track a black bear for a mile using old tracks. Those two have more to fear from him than he does from them." Harm shook his head. "It really is frightening how much alike the two of you look. Especially, wearing that." Harm indicated the Marine sniper ghillie suit that the angel was wearing.

"Five years ago, hell two years ago, you would have gone after him." Nate opined. "He's not me having my godfather lead me around the West Bank and he's not you having Stryker lead you around the jungles of Southeast Asia."

"You're not giving him enough credit." Harm argued. He paused for a second and looked over toward the ridge. "The head of a pin."

"What?" Nate questioned.

"The size of a human hand when seen through a scope." Harm told him. "And he hit it, I know he did. At fifteen years old, at almost 700 yards and it was moving. Even you would have had trouble with that one."

"You think he can track those two through the woods all day without being seen?" Nate exhaled hard and looked over his right shoulder.

"I think he could track YOU all day without being seen." Harm shot back. "Don't think you appreciate how well you trained that boy."

"Didn't think he was ready. Hope he remembers rule number nine." Nate shook his head.

"Rule number nine?" Harm questioned.

"Always carry a knife." Nate told him. "Something an old Gunny of mine used to say."

"The way he was ready to go this morning, it wouldn't surprise me if he had a boot knife on him." Harm grinned.

"Captain Rabb!" A voice called from below the hunting nest and Harm looked down to find the NCIS team waiting for him. Harm climbed down to the trail below.

"Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo?" Harm questioned as he stood in front of them.

"As well as Agents McGee and Todd, our M.E. Doctor Mallard." Gibbs answered.

"Body they dropped is this way." Harm took them down the trail toward the edge of the ridge. "We spotted them a little after nine. Kid scoped them out using the Swift on his Winchester."

"Kid?" DiNozzo questioned. "Your shooting partner was a kid, Captain?"

"Fifteen year-old Billy Ross." Harm answered. They arrived at the crime scene and Ducky bent down over the body.

"He took a shot at the suspect?" Gibbs turned to Harm.

"One. Textbook Marine shot, even whispered the steps to himself as he prepped." Harm explained.

"I know them well." Gibbs smiled. "You think he hit what he was aiming at?"

"I do." Harm affirmed. "I seen snipers take shots before, I know what it looks like when they know what they're doing. Or at least when they think they do."

"Time of death, Duck?" Gibbs checked with the Medical Examiner.

"Judging by temperature, factoring in exposure to the elements and early onset of rigor, I'd say approximately 12 hours ago, Jethro." Ducky answered. "If I had a guess as to cause right now, judging by the abrasions on his chest and head, I'd say blunt force trauma."

"So, the blood one the ground..." DiNozzo jumped in.

"Isn't his, Anthony, it's too fresh." Ducky concluded.

"What happened?" Gibbs turned on Harm. "Exactly, what happened?"

"The kid saw one of the PO2s raise a gun and he took his shot, he thought he hit him in the hand." Harm stammered to explain.

"It's quite possible that he did." Ducky interjected. "There are arteries in the hand which could have resulted in this kind of blood loss. The ulnar and the radial for example."

"Why just shoot him? Why not kill him?" Kate looked to Gibbs.

"Did he know you were going to call NCIS?" Gibbs looked to Harm.

"I'd started dialing already." Harm answered.

"He didn't kill him because he didn't know what was going on." Gibbs theorized. "He kills them and they've got the other members of your company, it's possible the other suspect kills the General and the Admiral. He shoots him in the hand, leaves a trail of blood. That way we don't have to track the kid, we can use the blood. You were right, Captain."

"What's that, Agent Gibbs?" Harm questioned.

"He hit what he was aiming at." Gibbs nodded. "What was he using for equipment?"

"Winchester Model 70, Swift scope, Springfield thirty aught six cartridges." Harm answered.

"A thirty aught six would turn your hand into a maraca, boss." Tony offered.

"Smart kid." Gibbs couldn't help but shake his hand. "Gave us a trail and incapacitated a suspect."

"Impressive for a fifteen year-old." Kate commented. "And now?"

"DiNozzo, stick around with Palmer and Ducky, help them get the body back to the van. We'll call you with our location, you can bring the vehicle up when we're done. McGee, you're a boy scout, you're gonna help me track. Todd, you're coming too but stick close to the Captain." Gibbs instructed. He started tracking the blood pattern toward the edge of the ridge. He stared over.

"That's gotta be a thirty...forty foot drop, boss." McGee commented. "Gets steeper and rockier the further west you go up the mountain."

"Supposed to snow tonight, McGee. You don't go up the mountain when it's gonna snow." Gibbs looked west up the Mountain. "Gotta head east down the ridge." Gibbs kept following the blood trail. "McGee when you checked maps of the area, how many cabins were listed?"

"They don't list cabins outside the Park, boss." McGee answered.

"Probably one along this trail." Gibbs turned the team East down the trail toward the bottom of the ridge. He had to admit, the kid was good. The were signs of a group going through, three people at least, but no signs of anyone hunting them.

"Gibbs, why send Tony back and not Kate?" McGee was a little puzzled.

"I've got some experience with Ross Marines, Elf Lord. Two thing lure them out of hiding, either what they're hunting or a raven haired, dark eyed woman." Gibbs explained. "Kate's bait."

"You're betting that Kate can lure a fifteen year-old with a gun out of a hunt?" Tim was puzzled. "Wouldn't that be dependent on the kid basically being DiNozzo?"

The question made Gibbs laugh. They were reaching the bottom of the trail and Gibbs' paced slowed. "Stay quiet!" Gibbs issued whispered orders.

"Boss, a Winchester 70 using Springfield thirty aught would have a search area of over a mile around the target."McGee informed his boss.

"Know that, McGee." Gibbs shot venomously. Peering into a grove of elms, Gibbs saw a tiny pine cabin. "400 yards, between 2 and 3." Gibbs nodded in the direction. McGee nodded and they moved toward it, weapons drawn. Gibbs signaled to Kate that her and Harm were to approach the cabin from the other side. Gibbs and McGee closed in on the right, they saw the Admiral and the General tied together and unconscious on the front porch of the cabin. They continued moving until the unexpected sound of metal snapping made everyone pause.

"Aaaah!!!" Tim shouted as he looked down to find a bear trap had caught his left foot. Caught off guard for a second Gibbs turned back toward McGee only to hear the sound of a hammer being retracted near his head.

"Drop your weapons." The Petty Officer demanded in a grave tone. Gibbs lowered his gun and turned slowly.

"You don't want to do this, Petty Officer." He tried to negotiate. "You shoot me or one of my agents, that's a federal crime." Gibbs paused when he finished turning. "Pretty nasty wound you got there." Gibbs indicated his left hand where blood had soaked through a primitive tourniquet.

"Cooper, look what I found." The other PO2 walked Harm and Kate into the grove with a rifle to their backs. "Figured they would play hero."

"Guess that bear trap came in handy after all." Petty Officer Cooper commented snidely.

"That's a couple federal crimes right there." Gibbs reasoned. "Violation of the conservation act and assaulting a federal officer."

"Shut up, cop." The Petty Officer thrust his 9mm forward. "Don't you think I'll shoot you?"

"You didn't shoot your first victim." Gibbs parried.

"You don't think I'm serious?" Cooper challenged and stepped a few paces back from Gibbs. "How about I waste that old man over there?" He turned his 9mm on General Jack.

"See, now I wouldn't do that." Gibbs advised.

"Oh yeah, watch me." Cooper challenged and just as it looked at though he was going to squeeze off a round, a shot was fired and he crumbled to the ground. His buddy panicked when he saw Cooper hit the ground. Another shot was fired, hitting the second Petty Officer in the pelvic region and sending him to the ground as well. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Gibbs walked over to Cooper's fallen body and knew he was dead without even needing to check his pulse. Single shot, between the eyes, right along the brow line. Hydrostatic shock, impacting the central nervous system. In Marine speak, simply the Kill Shot. Dead before he hit the ground.

He took out his phone and dialed up DiNozzo. "Yeah, bring the vehicles down. Take it slow when you get to the ridge." He closed the phone and looked around at the treed. "Come on out!" He shouted and waited for the sound of rustling brush. The sight that welcomed him a few seconds later caused a double take. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was transported back to Colombia in 1991. A Marine Captain in a ghillie suit asking him if he'd gotten Castillo. The height, the build, the hair, the piercing gaze, it was too familiar to not be. "Hand over your weapon, sniper." Gibbs slipped on a glove and extended his right hand. "Name?"

"Ross, William Patrick Sean, sir." Billy answered almost mechanically.

"Might have just saved a few lives." Gibbs examined the weapon. "Police your own brass?"

"Yes, sir." Billy answered again.

"Good shooting. Sit tight, we're gonna have some questions for you." Gibbs pointed the boy to the stairs coming down off the porch. Harm went over and sat next to him.

"What's up with my Grandpa and Uncle AJ?" Billy looked to Harm.

"Looks like they've been drugged, probably a tranquilizer." Harm whispered.

"Anything that would wake them?" Billy asked.

"Smelling salts, probably." Harm looked over his shoulder. "Don't think we've packed any."

"Got something that's probably just as potent." Billy thought for a second.

"What could you possibly have?" Harm furrowed his brow.

"I'm a teenage boy with a volatile body." Billy explained as he untied his boot. "I've been tramping through the woods all morning. Pouring sweat." The kid stripped his sock off his foot. "You do the math."

Harm recoiled at the sock as Billy stretched out the sole and headed over to his grandfather. He waved the sock under Grandpa Jack's nose. The elder Marine Commandant's head snapped up and his eyes slowly opened. "Christ Almighty, did someone raid a skunk's nest?"

"Welcome back, Grandpa." Billy cheered as he hugged his grandfather.

"Thanks." Jack groaned. "Wanna cut me loose?"

"Sure." Billy nodded. Reaching down to his boot, Billy retrieved his knife and brought it up to cut the chords that were holding his uncle and grandfather to a post on the porch.

A few yards away, Ducky and DiNozzo had arrived to survey the crime scene. "No mystery what killed this boy, Jethro." Ducky stood over Cooper. "Single gun shot wound, entered his frontal lobe. Death would have been instantaneous. Your handy work?"

"His." Gibbs nodded at Billy sitting on the porch.

"The boy?" Ducky sounded shocked. "Obviously from some distance. Based on the lack of powder burns and impact bruising, it clearly wasn't at point blank range."

"If I had a guess, probably 800 yards." Gibbs offered.

"Well, Mr. Palmer and I shall tend to him and his accomplice, Jethro." Ducky offered. "I suspect that there is other work to be done."

"Yeah, yeah there is." Gibbs turned away from Ducky. "Gonna help the General and the Admiral, Duck? Think they've been tranked."

"Lead on, MacDuff." Ducky followed Gibbs over to the two flag officers.

"Jethro, is that you?" The General stated groggily looking at the NCIS agent.

"Sir." Gibbs nodded at his former CO. "How ya feeling, General?"

"Made it through Nam without a scratch. Even went back four times." General Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Gotten so old I can't even make it through a hunting trip."

"What's the last thing you remember, sir?" Gibbs waited for the General to loosen up the muscles in his neck.

"AJ being hit with a tranquilizer dart." He groaned. "Then the lights went out."

Gibbs smiled. "What happened before that?"

"We saw the two of them unloading that body as they moved up the trail. AJ shouted, they turned, one of them fired." The General described. "Guess we were lucky it was the tranquilizer." The General let Ducky examine him. He eyed the body laying yards away on the forest floor. "Who took him down?"

"We'll get to that in a second, sir." Gibbs answered.

Meanwhile a few yards away, Kate and Tony were tasked with interviewing Billy. "Wow, who's Special Agent Hottie?" Billy joked as he eyed Kate appreciatively.

"I'm Special Agent DiNozzo, this is Special Agent Todd." Tony forced back a laugh at the teenager's joke.

"Billy." The teenager answered. "But you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart." He winked at Kate.

"You wanna tell us what happened?" Tony cut in.

"Around 0920 or so, I was scoping a twelve point white-tail with my Winchester. We heard shots, I scoped down the two Petty Officers with my scope, took it off my rifle and handed it to Captain Rabb to confirm. He confirmed, I reattached the scope and kept it trained." Billy took a breath. "When I saw one of the raise a gun and point it at someone. Took aim at his hand and fired."

"You were 672 yards away, you're telling me that you meant to hit his hand?" DiNozzo was in disbelief.

"I want to be a Marine, Agent DiNozzo, I hit what I aim at." Billy shifted his gaze at Tony. "Listen, Agent Hottie, I know that little sock stunt I pulled earlier wasn't very sexy but put me in a suit, a nice pair of shoes. Take the foliage out of my hair and I clean up really, _really_ well." He smiled at her again.

"After you, fired?" DiNozzo tried to get them back on track.

"Captain Rabb was on the phone with your agency but I didn't want to risk any harm coming to my grandfather or uncle, so I climbed down from the nest and started tracking them." Billy explained, they led me here. "I took up position in a coniferous tree that I marked off as 820 yards due East."

"With no training, you executed a perfect no-reflex kill shot at 820 yards?" Kate was stunned.

"Not exactly no training." Billy grinned. "My...uncle was Nate Ross. I've known how to properly use that Winchester since I was twelve. My mentor in how to shoot was a Marine sniper."

"Not just a Marine sniper, one of the best." Gibbs interrupted. "DiNozzo, tag and bag everything in that cabin."

"On it, boss." Tony trotted off toward the cabin.

"You knew my...uncle, Agent Gibbs?" Billy swallowed hard.

"Served with him, good Marine." Gibbs answered. "Great shot."

"I didn't want to do it...sir." Billy stared at his feet. "Was one thing to shoot him in the hand."

"Pointed a gun at your grandfather." Gibbs shrugged. "You have no way of knowing whether he'd fire or not. Your first one's always tough."

"Thanks...sir." Billy shook his head.

"Don't 'sir' me, I work for a living." Gibbs answered with a smile. "It's Gibbs."

"Or Gunny." Grandpa Jack walked over. "You shot him, Billy?"

"Pointed a gun at you, Grandpa." Billy answered.

"Was a good shooting, sir." Gibbs interjected, addressing the General. "Alright, we've got to take you all back to the Navy Yard and get this on record. McGee, you'll go with the Admiral and Captain Rabb. Kate, DiNozzo, you'll take the kid and I'll ride with the General."

"Got it, boss." Tony nodded.

"Does Agent Hottie get to ride in the backseat with me?" Billy questioned aloud. This time Gibbs had to restrain a laugh.

"McProbeus, we're watching the boy dance on thin ice." Tony whispered to McGee. Kate spun on Billy and folded her arms in front of her chest. Billy just fixed a knowing grin on her and winked.

"I saved your life." He told her in a very calm, forced deep voice.

"You're what, like fifteen?" She challenged.

"Yeah." He affirmed.

"That makes you at least, five and a half years to young for me. And I should stress the at least part." Kate's mood lightened.

"Nah." Billy shook his head and stepped toward her. "Old saying in my family. Good men are like good scotch, the best experience comes at eighteen years of age." He smiled. "So, it's more like two and a half."

Kate couldn't help but laugh, and alright, she felt a little flattered. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you." She told him nicely. "Let's go, DiNozzo."

"Gee, Kate, I never get a kiss from you for bad pick up lines." Tony joked as they headed toward the car.

"That's because you're more like an inflamed wound than a fine scotch, Tony." Kate jested.

Gibbs just shook his head. Watching him come out of the brush, watching the way the kid had come on to Kate. His gut was talking and he knew, he just knew.

2407 ZULU

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

The two weary warriors approached Mac's apartment door, leaning on each other, almost falling over from exhaustion. Harm tapped on the apartment door and they waited for Mac to answer. The door swung open a little and Mac looked out at the two of them. "You two look like you're about to die." Mac couldn't help but extend an astonished smile.

"Long, long, LONG day." Harm shook his head. "But he said that you two were going to hang out tomorrow and with nobody at his house, seemed best to bring him here."

"And you?" Mac leaned against her door frame.

"I can cook." Harm offered with a smile.

"Alright, I think I can take a few house guests." Mac let them step into the apartment. "So, what happened?"

"Where do you want me to start? The hunting trip? The dead body? This one hunting down the killers? My tramp through the woods with NCIS? Our own little version of Mexican standoff or Billy hitting on one of the NCIS agents?" Harm popped Billy on the shoulder.

"You hit on an NCIS agent?" Mac's mouth was agape.

"Maybe a little bit." Billy fained at an explanation.

"A little bit? I was worried you were gonna start drooling or marking your territory." Harm laughed as he entered the kitchen. "Any ideas for dinner, Mac?" Harm shouted from the kitchen.

"I was thinking spaghetti before you got here." Mac called back.

"Harm's vegetarian spaghetti coming up." Harm started filling the pot with water.

"Harm!" Billy shouted. "Put meat in the sauce or the Marines are gonna run ya up the flag pole."

"I think you're outvoted, Harm." Mac added to an audible groan coming from the kitchen. "So, you hit on an NCIS agent?" Mac turned on the teenager.

"She was pretty hot." Billy nodded. "She seemed pretty smart, and I don't know but I think I have something for pretty girls with long hair wearing baseball caps."

"So, you're an average teenage boy?"Mac joked. "What really happened out there today?" She pressed, a more concerned maternal tone in her voice.

"Harm and I were scoping out a deer when I caught sight of a couple PO2s trying to bury a body. Shots were fired, I figured they might be close to Grandpa and Uncle AJ, so I fired and hit one in the hand. They ran, Harm called NCIS but I left to track them." Billy stated.

"In the middle of the woods, with no back up, you decided to track a couple of armed sailors burying a body?" Mac questioned in a sterner tone.

"Admittedly, not the smartest thing I've ever done." Billy shrugged. "Tracked them for a few miles until the stopped at a cabin, I took post in an ancient coniferous tree about 800 yards off. Harm and the NCIS team showed up a while later. They got in a bit of a standoff with the Petty Officers...one of them turned a gun on my grandfather and I...I scoped him and shot him."

"Shot him?" Mac's voice was back to tender.

"Just like he taught me." Billy gulped. "You aim for the brow line, put it right between the eyes. No reflex, nothing. Hydrostatic shock impacts the central nervous system, deader than a doornail before he hit the ground." Billy hung his head. "I threw up afterward. But I took down the second suspect first, wounded him this time."

Giving in to her first maternal instinct, Mac reached out and gave Billy a hug. Harm walked into the living room at that moment with three plates of spaghetti. "Dinner's on."

"Just hearing about your day." Mac turned toward Harm, her and Billy reaching for their utensils. "I should have know that any activity involving Harm, guns, wildlife, woods, and early morning hours while playing hooky on a weekday was likely to end in either a hostage situation or a standoff with some radical militia."

"Hey!" Harm faked offence.

"How many times has that happened when we've gone out into the woods?" Mac rebuffed with a superior grin.

"Okay, good point." Harm laughed as he settled into a chair in the living room.

Dinner was accompanied by a little pleasant conversation before everyone settled in to watch a movie on cable. Within forty-five minutes, Harm and Billy had passed out in the living room from exhaustion and Mac turned the TV off. She smiled fondly at the two forms passed out on the furniture before turning off the light in the living room and walked into her bedroom.

0105 ZULU

GIBBS' HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"You still leave the door unlocked and work on this damn boat, huh?" The General commented, striding down the basement stairs.

"Finished it twice." Gibbs continued sanding.

"Then how did you get it out?" The General curiously eyed the walls. "You know what, never mind. Came bearing gifts." The General reached the bottom of the stairs and handed Gibbs a bottle of Old Granddad.

"Good to see you again, sir." Gibbs took the bottle and set it on the work bench.

"Don't think that I brought that whole bottle for you, Jethro." The General took a seat on the stairs. Gibbs grinned, dusted off a couple jars and cracked the bottle open. He handed a jar to his former CO. "Saw you at the funeral, don't think you made it to the wake."

"Got called out on a case." Gibbs answered. "Wanted to be there."

"And all this time I just thought you were trying to avoid having my wife psychoanalyze you again." The General took a sip of the bourbon.

"Figured she'd given up." Gibbs commented.

"She's a good Marine wife, never gives up." The General grinned.

"Yeah, those are rare enough." Gibbs joked and the two men shared a laugh.

"I came down here to find out what's going to happened with my grandson, Jethro." The General let the whisky clear this throat. "After what happened today."

"Was a good shooting." Gibbs went back to sanding the boat. "He figured you were in danger and had no way of knowing whether the suspect in question was a legitimate threat to pull the trigger, so he treated it like he was one. Just how one of my agents would have done it."

"Good to hear." The General leaned back on his elbows.

"Also something you could have learned with a phone call." Gibbs didn't look at the General. "But you wasted money on a bottle of bourbon and came all the way down here. What's on your mind, Jack?" A rare lapse in decorum was used to stress his point.

"Listen...I know that after what happened with Shannon and Kelly...Nathan offered to go with you to Mexico and..." The General was unsure how to proceed on this topic.

"Told him to stay here." Gibbs answered sharply. "Wasn't his fight."

"Thanked him for offering?" The General questioned. "Told him you owed him?"

"Yeah." Gibbs affirmed.

"My grandson has a lot of rage, Jethro." The General shifted topics.

"Probably has something to do with his father dying recently." Gibbs spat, growing increasingly annoyed with where this conversation was going.

"I knew your infamous gut would put two and two together." The General stood up. "He could learn a lot from you, Jethro."

"The kid's got good role models, sir." Gibbs regained his stoicism. "He just needs to vent a little rage."

"He idolized his father's sniper traits, you saw that today." Jack stepped up.

"What are you suggesting?" Gibbs stopped working

"Be someone to talk to if he needs it." The General stated. "You knew his dad, you've got good character and you're a sniper. Teach him how to work on the boat if you're so inclined. I just don't want to see that boy pick up a gun in rage ever again."

Gibbs paused and thought for a second. He understood where the General was coming from. Hell, he did feel bad for missing the wake. Maybe talking to the kid a few times, teaching him a little woodworking wasn't the worst idea. "That an order, sir?" Gibbs questioned lightheartedly.

"Would I do that to you, Jethro?" Jack grinned and headed back for the stairs. "Consider it a suggestion." He called back down when he reached the top of the stairs, then disappeared through the door.


	25. Growin' Up

January gave way to February. DC remained coated in a thin layer of snow. Mac's mood generally improved, Harm adjusted to life in the E-Ring and the Admiral had decided to turn down the General's generous job offer. Life at JAG remained comparatively unchanged then through February. As March came around, the snow was beating a hasty retreat. Harm had called Billy Ross up with the offer of taking him flying on the first Saturday that was warm enough. The kid had expressed some initial hesitancy but with a little prodding, Harm had gotten him to agree. So, on the first Saturday that was warm enough, Harm had stopped by Billy's mom's apartment to pick him up and then head out to the airfield in Blacksburg.

A few minutes after getting the kid up in the air, Harm wasn't hearing the usual feelings of exhilaration being expressed by the person in the front seat. Instead he just heard the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional loud gulp. "You okay there, kid?" Harm called using the radio.

"Oh...yeah." Harm heard the kid say nervously as his head nodded. "I'm fine."

"Are you afraid of flying?" Harm chanced, noticing the symptoms when he saw them.

"Uh...Not flying so much as heights." Billy gulped hard again.

"You can climb up a tree to take a sniper's nest but being up in a plane scares you?" Harm questioned in disbelief. He had a hard time believing that Annapolis' star recruit for the 2006 season was afraid of heights.

"In a tree, you're not a mile off the ground..." Billy was starting to sweat. "And if you fall, there's a lot of stuff to grab on to on the way down."

"I thought Marines weren't afraid of anything?" Harm challenged the youngster.

"Partial credit." Billy's breathing was still heavy, his eyes were slammed shut. "We're not afraid of any person. Things are a different matter. Heights, being eaten by large animals, enclosed spaces..." He gulped again. "Those are ya know, irrational fears. We're still human."

"Come on, Marine, gotta be tougher than that." Harm goaded as he pitched the Stearman into a dive. He took his hands off the stick in an attempt to shake the kid of his fears. "Alright, your bird." Harm shouted and Billy's eyes launched open.

He watched the stick move around between his legs in relation to the wind and flight dynamics of the plane. He reached down and instinctively put his hand around the stick and yanked it back, pulling the plane out of its dive. Gulping again, he clung to the stick for dear life. "Ease up on the stick." Harm warned. "If you don't, we're gonna..."

It was too late, the plane already committed to a loop and took the two passengers upside down. "Ease up on the stick as we come out of the loop." Harm instructed and Billy did as he was told. The Stearman levelled off and went wings level. The kid exhaled hard and opened his eyes, his heart was pounding in his ears.

"Well, it took twenty years, but I might have found a pilot crazier than I am." Harm joked through the radio and Billy smiled.

"Just don't do that to me again, okay?" Billy said as his panic subsided. "I'm perfectly okay in anything that has an actual enclosure over it's cockpit. Why couldn't you own like a spitfire or a P51 or a hurricane or something?"

"Those are all single seater aircraft." Harm jousted back.

"I'd have been perfectly fine watching from the tarmac." Billy nodded quickly again.

"Ah, come on, Marine." Harm goaded. "Then you'd miss this." Harm guided the stick sharply right and the Stearman went into a barrel roll.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhh!!!" Billy shouted as the plane rolled off its even keel toward the ground. Once the barrel roll was done, Harm brought the plane back up even.

"So, there's no chance of me at least convincing you to be a Marine Aviator, if you have to be a Marine, right?" Harm jested as he turned the plane back toward the airfield.

"I don't know." Billy's composure was coming back. "Any chance we could try this again in an F-18?"

"Doubt it." Harm grinned a bit as he pulled into the pattern. "Stearman November Romeo 2-4-1, requesting permission to land."

"You are in the pattern, November Romeo and on the glide slope. Click twice for runway lights." The airfield manager responded. Harm clicked twice and the lights came on. Harm brought the Stearman down just about picture perfect. "November Romeo, you really kissed that one off."

Harm and Billy climbed out of the Stearman in the hangar and headed to the car. "Thanks, Captain, that was fun." Billy grinned as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"Seriously, it's okay to call me Harm." Harm fired up the Lexus. The SUV pulled out of the parking lot and back on to the roads leading toward DC. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you and Mac up to every Saturday morning?"

"It's a bit embarrassing." Billy shook his head. "When my dad died...he left me a letter he wrote. In it he told me that it was worthwhile to learn how to dance, he said it helped get girls. And being a teenage boy..."

"He might as well have told you that it could make you Superman." Harm joked.

"Yeah. So, I signed up for lessons back at the beginning of January. One Saturday, my mom couldn't drop me off because she had to take Simon and Owen somewhere, so Mac offered to drop me off. She hung around that time and she's been coming back every weekend." Billy's cheeks were an almost crimson shade of red. Harm was trying very hard to restrain some serious laughter.

"So that's what you two are doing on Saturdays?" Harm was grinning. "Your football buddies know?"

"If they did, I'd never hear the end of it." Billy's eyes nearly shot out of his head. "It's a little awkward dancing with Mac though, I mean she's old enough to be my mom."

"I'm gonna suggest you never tell her that, okay?" Harm joked.

"Got it." Billy smiled. "I told my football coach though, he figured that working on my footwork could make me better next season."

"You any good?" Harm questioned as they pulled into Arlington.

"Well, being a receiver helps with the footwork part." Billy answered. "But I can't really get into it. I don't really have the whole swagger thing and in the Latin stuff, I never know what to do with my hands."

"Well, that stuff is supposed to come easier when you're, you know, hot for the girl you're dancing with." Harm uncomfortably tried to explain to the teenager. "At least that's what I've been told."

"Yeah, you don't exactly strike me as the graceful dance floor type." Billy jousted back at him. "Think I could convince Special Agent Todd to go with me one Saturday?"

"You were really into her, huh?" Harm just shook his head.

"Listen, at school, I don't have to try with the girls. I'm a football player and a pretty smart guy, so it just kind of comes too easy." Billy hesitantly explained. "They fawn over me. It's boring. The sassy, tough challenging girls are more fun. Agent Todd has some fire."

"She's almost as old as Mac." Harm commented.

"So's Eva Mendes and I think she's hot." Billy grinned. "Besides, I mostly just enjoy flirting with Agent Todd. It's fun to see if I have game that actually works on women that don't just see me as being the animal at the top of the high school ecosystem."

"Uh huh, so you're not secretly hoping that Agent Todd has a little bit of the cougar in her with full knowledge that in four months you'll be at the age of consent in DC?" Harm peaked an eyebrow.

"No!" Billy protested. He tried to keep a straight face but after about thirty seconds, he just couldn't hold it any more. "Okay, maybe a little."

"You're evil, you know that?" Harm laughed.

"I'm well aware of that fact." Billy smiled as they pulled up in front of his mom's apartment building. "Thanks for the ride, Harm."

"No problem, kiddo." Harm smiled. "Go easy on your mom, huh?"

"Yeah, okay." Billy nodded before shutting the door to the Lexus. Harm watched the kid jog up the stairs toward the front door of the apartment building before pulling away from the curb. It was Saturday evening, he didn't exactly want to go home just yet. That was one of the things about hanging out with young guys, they usually left you with the same kind of hunger for fun that you had when you were their age. Couldn't hang out with any of the guys from his Academy days, Keeter and Bax weren't in town and Sturgis was probably doing something with Bobbi. Bud was a bit of a home body nowadays and Harm didn't really no anyone at his new job well enough.

"I'd love to help you out, buddy." Harm looked at the passenger seat where his angelic companion had suddenly appeared. Back in his suit and tie look. Probably the only time in recent memory when someone could be in the front seat of a car holding a tumbler of whisky. "Gotta be something you can do. It's too early in the year to go to the driving range."

"Why are you here?" Harm looked at him.

"Been three months, Harm. You can start approaching her as a friend." Nate coached.

"You know what? What makes you so damn sure that this is what I want?" Harm protested in a loud voice.

"You're lucky the windows are rolled down, Harm. Otherwise one of the other motorists might see you shouting at yourself in an empty car and think you're nuts." Nate taunted.

"You're deflecting." Harm noted.

"You know what you want, Harm." Nate started to explain. "And I know what you want because I have the best intelligence sources in the universe. Also, you're not all that cryptic. You're a good guy but you need a kick in the ass more than the next twelve guys in line behind you."

"Don't sugar coat it for me, Nate, give it to me straight." Harm tossed sarcastically. "What the hell makes you even think she's interested, huh? That when I finally do make a move, I won't be left standing out on the sidewalk somewhere in the rain with a bunch of wilting flowers in my hand?"

"You want me to tell you there's no risk?" Nate scoffed. "You're a fighter pilot for God's sake and unless you've forgotten, a damn good one. Risk should not be a deterrent for you. If it was, you'd never fly off a carrier deck." Nate gritted teeth. "And in case you've forgotten one other thing, I'm actually here to help you. As foolish a task as that might seem from time to time."

"Yeah, well I'm not sure you _are_ helping." Harm pushed back. "You're in my head, now, you're gonna have me second guessing myself. Did you ever think that maybe I don't want to do it your way? Maybe I want to go my own way on this one?"

"Harm, think of this like a football game. You're Tom Brady, I'm Bill Belichick. I'm gonna call the plays early in the game but when it comes down to the last two minutes, you've got to depend on the quarterback, the guy with the ball, to run the plays." Nate encouraged. "First you've gotta be her friend again, though."

"Well, that I think I can do without help." Harm commented.

"I think I can go a little hands of then." Nate looked out the car window. "I'll tell you to run the ball or throw it. You pick the play."

"And tonight?" Harm asked, settling down again.

"I'd run the ball. You don't need a first down, just to move the ball upfield. Three or four yards works for you right now." Nate coached. "Before I head back upstairs, I do need to ask your permission for one thing."

"What could you possibly need my permission for?" Harm shook his head.

"Well, it's a Hendrix concert tonight and I was thinking of asking Diane but I figured I should own up and make sure it was okay with you first?" Nate put on his sliest grin.

"Nothing I can really do about it." Harm answered. "Are you really that ready to move on after Mac?"

"Harm, it really makes no sense for me to grieve my own death." Nate answered. "Thanks for the permission." He smiled. "And we're here." Nate pointed out the driver's side window at Mac's apartment building. Harm turned his head to look out the window, when he looked back at the passenger seat, his companion was gone.

"Hope he tells me how that Hendrix concert was." Harm chuckled as he climbed out of the Lexus. He strode the familiar staircase and hallway before ending up at Mac's front door. Stopping for a second, he examined the door before knocking.

"Coming!" Mac called from inside the apartment. She jogged over to the door in work out clothes. Swinging open the door, she smiled at Harm. "Hey, what's up?"

"Just got back from the airfield, was wondering if you wanted to do something." Harm nervously wore the tip of his shoe into the carpet of the hallway.

"Harm I'd like to but one thing I've had to adjust to since Nathan died is that going somewhere with a man is a virtual no go yet." Mac explained. "Because he was so high profile right before he died and because he died in so high profile a way, anyone near him became a tabloid target. You wouldn't believe what I lived through the first few weeks after it happened." Mac welcomed Harm into the apartment. "The questions, did I know he was cheating on me? Did he know I was pregnant? Did he abuse me? Did he get violent when he drank like my father?" Mac shook her head. "There's no such thing as humanity in the tabloid business."

"Mac, you should have told me." Harm's voice lowered to express his tenderness.

"It wasn't the worst for me. After that Court TV stuff a few years ago, I had some way of dealing with it but after word of Billy's eulogy at the funeral got around, they started going after him. For some people, the nicer People Magazine types, it was sympathy that they wanted to convey. For others, it was any dirt they could find. They were guessing, but they were right about Billy's paternity, even if they didn't and still don't know it." Mac wrung her hands.

"Both of you could have come to me." Harm stated.

"It's never that easy, Harm." Mac stated. "It was easier just to turn to each other, because we could empathize." Mac put a hand on his. "I do think that Billy had it easier than I did. I mean there were magazines saying he had a JFK Jr. thing. I don't think anyone ever compared me to Jackie or Ethel Kennedy." Mac gave a sarcastic laugh. "Not that I wanted that, I think I mostly wanted to be left alone."

"Is it getting easier?" Harm wondered, partially to satisfy his own curiosity.

"What I've found, is that there are two ways of defeating this beast. Sometimes, it's like a starving snake and you've got to let it feed so much that it'll suffocate itself on its prey. Other times, you can starve it out. I picked starving it out this time. It'll take a few months, but I'll probably be able to go to the movies or dinner with friends again without hearing about how I'm engaging in some kind of illicit affair." Mac shook her head. "But that doesn't mean we can't hang out here."

"What did you have in mind, Colonel?" Harm smiled.

"How about a movie on cable, I'll make some popcorn and we can talk." Mac offered as she hopped off the couch. "You know, like we used to."

"Sure, sounds great." Harm grinned and nodded as he relaxed on the couch.

"So, how was flying with the kid today?" Mac shouted from the kitchen.

"Did you know he was afraid of heights?" Harm replied from the couch.

"Yeah." Mac laughed as she stuck the popcorn in the microwave. "I've seen that kid pour Tabasco sauce on horse radish on jalapeño peppers and stick them on a hot dog. How any one that willing to abuse their body that way can be afraid of anything..."

"Hey, we all did crazy things when we were kids." Harm shrugged. "I remember water-skiing naked once. Don't remember wiping out being a pleasant experience."

"No I imagine not." Mac laughed boisterously in the kitchen. "Feel free to turn the TV on and pick a movie, Harm. No Top Gun!"

"Yes, mom." Harm groaned as he channel surfed. "Speaking of mom, are you really okay with the kid referring to you as his stepmom?"

"At first, it was a little jarring but knowing that there was someone who knew what I was going through and was just kind of there for me, it seemed appropriate." Mac smiled as she stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

"And is that where the dancing lessons came from?" Harm had his own working version of the Cheshire Cat grin on his face as he got up from the couch.

"He told you?" Mac's cheeks grew an instant redness. "I was a late addition to the class but I think I'm a star pupil. I love dancing the mambo, the tango. It's a lot of fun. The poor kid though, I think he hears conga drums and has nightmares, he's so embarrassed dancing with me."

"No younger girls in the class?" Harm moved into the kitchen.

"There are and I think he'd prefer to dance with them, but he's trying to protect me from some of the older men in the class." Mac smiled fondly. "Especially when I start getting into the music. I've never seen a kid try so hard to lead with his fingertips and from almost two feet away. You could fit a lane of traffic between the two of us." She couldn't help but laugh at that thought.

"The kid got any skill?" Harm wondered.

"Top notch footwork. But he dances really nervous." Mac analyzed. "His hands are always fidgeting and he's too tense to dance to anything with momentum. "Probably something like you I imagine."

"Hey, what makes you think I can't dance?" Harm toyed as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Harm, I think the only time I've seen you ever move your hips was when you were turning around." Mac laughed as she poured the popcorn into the bowl. "Otherwise I wouldn't have even known they were there."

"I can move." Harm protested.

"Oh yeah?" Mac challenged. She walked past Harm, into the living room and flipped on the radio. When _Candida_ by Tony Orlando came on, Mac walked over and grabbed Harm's hands and moved him out to the middle of the floor. "Show me what you'd do."

Harm felt like a middle school boy. He was tentative bordering on shy. He laid one set of fingertips on Mac's left hip and took her other hand in his. He wasn't quite sure where to go from there. "Baby steps." Mac coached. "A few inches at a time. Right foot forward." She instructed and Harm tried to move the two of them around the carpet, hitting his calves a few times on the coffee table. Mac had to strain to hold her laughter back. He was at least making an honest to God effort. As the verse of the song gave way to the chorus, Harm decided that he'd mastered the basic steps and figured he could throw a little fancy footwork all his own into the dance. He executed a quick shuffle backward as he twirled Mac out of their original position. In doing so, he tripped over his feet, falling to the ground and sending Mac spinning and tumbling to the carpet five feet away.

When she hit the ground, Mac broke out into chuckles. Upon recovering, Harm looked over at Mac who was bordering on tears she was laughing so hard. "Something to share with the class, Marine?" Harm asked as he sat up.

"You...move like...the Tin Man." Mac continued laughing as she sat up as well. "Need an oil can, Harm?"

"No worries about over-inflating my ego around here, huh?" Harm got to his feet.

"Just wondering how you and Keeter got all those girls during your first cruises after Pensacola." Mac went back into the kitchen and grabbed the popcorn. "You clearly couldn't keep up with the Barcelona girls on the dance floor."

"The dress whites and gold wings didn't hurt, Mac." Harm peaked an eyebrow. "And I like to think I'm a nice guy, that helps."

"You're a nice guy, good guy and a smart guy, too." Mac nodded. "None of which are necessarily qualities that would shine through in a night club surrounding where hormones are bouncing off the walls. But for a grown woman, yeah you'd be basically good material." Mac gave him a pat on top of his head. "Gotta learn to dance though."

A few yards at a time, Harm thought to himself. A few yards at a time.

2312 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The Admiral had summoned most of the usual JAG crew to his office tonight. He'd even called Harm in from the Pentagon and his in-laws in from their house in Virginia. He'd been antsy about a doctor's appointment all week. This had raised the suspicion and the concern of most of the JAG staff who had become fond of the Admiral over the years. A man of his age placing so much emphasis on a doctor's appointment was rarely a good sign. The result was a staff walking around on eggshells all day, especially when the Admiral left at 1100 this morning for that appointment.

Sturgis was Sturgis. He was trying to calm the staff down, assuring them that there was a rational explanation for the Admiral's behaviour. Harriet and Bud were looking for some kind of clue, anything that would give them insight. Captain Ramirez was trying to determine her place in the social structure of the office as far as matters like this were concerned in the office. On the one hand, she'd been there almost a year and had bonded well with Lieutenant Commander Roberts, Lieutenant Sims and Colonel MacKenzie but she wasn't sure that necessarily made her a part of familial part of the JAG nucleus the way that they were. She was touched to be invited to the gathering tonight, especially when Lieutenant Singer hadn't been and she'd been at the office four times as long.

With Mac behind the Admiral's desk for the day, Bud and Harriet had made an attempt to prey upon her gentle goodwill toward them to discover clues in the Admiral's office as to why he needed to call this meeting tonight. Harm had called a few times during the early afternoon to find out why he was expected to haul ass from the Pentagon. A drive that really didn't take all that long and as such, Mac failed to understand the nature of his complaint. One of the benefits of sitting in the Admiral's chair, especially on a day where there were cases to be assigned. On those days, she got to torture Lieutenant Singer by assigning her low profile cases that involved a lot of tedious paperwork. Just for fun, she'd pull a set of transfer orders out of the Admiral's desk and consider using her temporary authority to transfer Lieutenant Singer to NAS Reykjavik. Obviously, because she didn't want the conversation with the Admiral as to why she transferred Singer to Iceland.

When the Admiral returned at 1600, Mac returned to her office and to her caseload. It seemed like with Harm out of JAG Ops, the headlining cases were harder to come by. Lately, it just seemed to be a lot of drunk and disorderlies on liberty, some UA sailors and a few adulterous Marines. Bud and Harriet had given up on searching the Admiral's office for clues and they had taken to slowly trying to work over Tiner but the Admiral seemed to have wisely kept his yeoman out of the loop on this one. The Gunny was feverishly working his sources throughout the District in an attempt to find out something about why they were all being summoned to the Admiral's office tonight.

Mac was convinced that this was why a secret Santa could never ever work in this office. She laughed to herself and went back to drafting a motion to dismiss for the Stenslund court martial. "Find anything, Bud?" Mac inquired without even looking up from her paperwork.

"No clues, ma'am." Bud shook his head as he took a seat opposite Mac.

"Why are you so quick to assume the worst, Bud?" Mac stopped working, dropped her pen and looked across the desk at Bud. "The doctor's appointment and the meeting tonight might not be related at all."

"You don't really believe that, ma'am?" Bud leaned forward in the chair.

"No, but it's just as likely as whatever conspiracy the rest of the office seems to believe." Mac went back to work.

The clock turned slowly toward 1815 local when everyone in the office who had been invited began to make their way to the Admiral's office door. "So, did anyone figure out what this is all about?" Harriet asked the assembled crowd.

"I turned up nothing." The Gunny shook his head.

"Nothing on my end." Bud added with a shrug.

"Guys, we're gonna find out in like ten seconds, I think we can all calm down." Harm directed the group. "As your senior officer, I can make that an order." The gang fell silent. They were joined later by the Admiral's in-laws and then when the clock hit 1820 local, the door to the Admiral's office opened.

"Come on in, everyone." The Admiral called from inside his office. Everyone walked in to find the Admiral standing there with his wife in his arms. The edginess of the staff was not necessarily soothed by this sight. "Well, I suppose you're all wondering why you're here."

"You could say that, sir." Mac spoke for the group.

"Sir, does this have something to do with your doctor's appointment today?" Bud stepped in with his question.

"Well, yes, Commander, it does." The Admiral grinned. "Seems there's been some sickness in my house of late. But I hear that it's normal and should clear up in a few months."

At this comment, Harriet started to grin. "Sir?" She questioned hopefully.

"We're expecting our firstborn." Beverley answered for the couple. "We wanted to tell you all at once. Because we didn't want anyone feeling left out."

"And because we wanted Mac and my parents to hear at the same time that if it's a boy, we've decided to name him Nathan." Beverley struggled to hold back tears as she addressed a room full of smiling faces.

2237 ZULU, FRIDAY

NCIS HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

Billy Ross strode into NCIS Headquarters with a bag over his shoulder and a tray of drinks in hand. "Gibbs!" He called as he walked into the squad room. "Got tickets tonight for the March Madness Navy – Pitt game at the Verizon Centre." He raised the tickets out of his jacket pocket. "Wasn't sure if you had a case but since I was in the neighbourhood getting a haircut and figured I could drop by. Stopped to get coffee." Billy placed the coffee on Gibbs' desk.

"Just finished a case, sounds like a good idea for tonight." Gibbs answered as he took the coffee. "You can't hang around up here for the next half hour though, go hang out with Abby down in the lab."

"Will do." Billy smiled and turned back toward the elevator. He stopped in front of Kate's desk. "Before I forget though." He reached into the bag and pulled out three green roses. He grinned, handed them to Kate and put on his best imitation of an Irish brogue. "A few Irish roses, for my favourite Irish rose." Billy winked at Kate. She had to smile and giggle a little at the gesture. Even Gibbs wore a concealed smile at that play. Billy headed for the elevator to go down to Abby's lab.

"A few Irish roses, for my favourite Irish rose." Tony stated mockingly. "Come on, what is that?"

"It's called charm, Tony, and thoughtfulness. Some men are capable of expressing an interest in a woman without resorting to cheesy pick up lines every time." Kate shot back at Tony. "Take McGee for instance."

"Okay, I may not be his biggest fan but don't insult the kid, Kate." Tony interjected. "McGee only wishes he could have game like that."

"Hey!" McGee protested. "I can be charming."

"Online doesn't count, Probie." Tony turned over his right shoulder.

"I've got a conference in MTAC." Gibbs got up from his desk. "By the time I come down. Your reports had better be done, or you won't be leaving tonight." Gibbs headed out of the squad room.

"You realize you're messing with the Gibbs-awan, right?" Tony whispered across to Kate.

"Gibbs-awan?" Kate questioned.

"Gibbs' Padawan." Tony explained. "Both drink the same coffee, get Marine regulation haircuts, even starting to dress alike. I think the kid even slapped me upside the head last time he was in here."

"You're exaggerating, Tony." Kate laughed and shook her head.

"I caught him checking out your ass last time he was in here, Kate." Tony commented.

"You do that everyday, DiNozzo." Kate tossed back. "All that shows is that the kid has good taste."

Billy got off the elevator outside Abby's lab and walked through the door. "What've we got, Abs?" He went into his best Gibbs impression.

"Your pitch is a little off again, Billy." Abby turned around and saw the teenager standing there. He walked toward her and handed her a Caf-Pow.

"Figured I'd save Gibbs a little money." He commented. "How's my favourite tattooed gal?"

"Got a new one on my ankle." Abby rolled down her sock.

"You are so cool, Abs." Billy smiled as he looked at the tattoo. "I want to get one after my next birthday but my mom would freak."

"What were you thinking about getting?" Abby asked as they went over and sat in front of her computer.

"Either the O'Connell Knight or the Naval Academy Ram." Billy pondered. "The rest of the guys on the football team got them after we won state this year but I couldn't go with them."

"Sucks." Abby stuck out her lower lip. There was silence for a few seconds until Abby's eyes lit up. "I've got most of the equipment down here to draw it on with ink, I'd have to improvise some stuff and it wouldn't be permanent but you could see how it looked."

"Really?" Billy's eyes lit up too. "You really are the best, Abs."

"I know." Abby grinned. "So, the Ram or the Knight?"

"Gibbs and I are headed off to watch Annapolis and Pitt tonight, so how about the Ram?" Billy questioned as he turned a chair around and sat in it.

"Where do you want the tatt?" Abby asked as she stood over him.

"Right shoulder blade." Billy looked over his shoulder. "Size is up to you, just not too big."

"Understood." Abby crouched down over his back. "Gonna have to lift your shirt, kiddo." Billy reached down and untucked the shirt from his jeans, pulling it over his head. Expecting to see a little baby fat, like the kind that he still had in his cheeks, Abby was surprised when he raised his shirt. This kid obviously hit the gym hard with the football team. His back was a quick indicator of that. She started drawing the outline of the Ram on his back using a stencil she'd printed off the Internet.

"I don't get it Abs, why can't the girls at school be like you...or Kate?" Billy asked as he felt the pen on his back

"Romantic trouble?" Abby asked.

"Three girlfriends in three months." Billy answered. "Starting to think DiNozzo is contagious."

Abby laughed. "Why do you have the hots for Kate, anyway?"

"I really don't know." Billy shook his head lightly.

"Stay still." Abby instructed.

"I mean, she's hot, that's obvious." Billy continued. "Maybe I think because I lack a challenging woman at school, I've gone in search of one I can't possibly get."

"Deep." Abby laughed again.

"Abigail!" Ducky regaled as he entered the lab. "What the devil?"

"Hey, Duck!" Billy called from the chair.

"Oh, young William." Ducky walked around the chair to face him. "How are we today?"

"Super, Duck." Billy grinned. "I really wanted to thank you for helping me study for that bio midterm."

"It was my pleasure." Ducky smiled fondly. "Took me back to my days at Eton, cramming for tests, sharing anecdotes with my colleagues into the wee hours of the morning."

"Yeah, well I tried to convince Gibbs that I should give you a bottle of Macallan as a thank you. But he refused to pick it up for me." Billy smiled at Ducky.

"Sounds like Jethro." Ducky chuckled.

"I hope my heartiest thanks will do. One Scotsman to another." Billy extended his left hand to shake Ducky's.

"Accepted." Ducky smiled as he shook Billy's hand. "Abby, what is all this?"

"I'm debuting as a tattoo artist, Ducky." Abby looked up from her work and smiled. "You can be next if you want?"

"I think I shall pass." Ducky took a seat.

"I think I've hit a snag." Abby tapped Billy on his left shoulder. "I'm no good at faces and there's a lot of sharp angles on the Annapolis Ram."

"You know Abby, we have an artist in the building with a particular knack for visages." Ducky pondered aloud.

"Who?" Abby wondered. "Oh, right." She got up and walked over to the phone. "Kate, we need a person of your talents down in the lab." She walked back over.

"Kate's a sketch artist?" Billy questioned.

"Yup. "Abby nodded.

"But does she have any experience with tattoos?" Billy challenged.

"She has one." Abby retorted ."But I'm not gonna tell you where it is. So don't ask."

"It's on her butt." Billy stated simply.

"How did you..." Abby was aghast.

"Kate's an Irish Catholic but she went through a rebellious phase. Where else would it be?" Billy looked over his left shoulder and grinned.

"You have to play poker with Gibbs and I." Abby shook her head.

"Abby, what's up?" Kate walked into the lab.

"Yeah, Abs, what's up?" DiNozzo followed Kate into the lab.

"Kate, I need you to draw the face to complete the ram." Abby handed the stencil and pen to Kate. She then pointed at the mostly complete drawing on the teenager's back.

"Well, this is a new one." Kate took a seat where Abby had been. She put one soft steadying hand on to his back and started to draw using the stencil. Billy was trying really hard to fight certain biological reactions which boys his age were prone to in situations like this. Kate focused really hard, trying to get the horns and snout of the ram just perfect.

"Tattoos are so bad ass." Tony commented as he watched Kate work. "Didn't want to get the real thing?" He shouted for the teenager.

"Didn't want to incur my mother's wrath." Billy answered.

"Huh." Tony fixed a curious expression on his face. "Maybe you are a bit like McGeek."

"Done." Kate got up from her seat.

"You can't cover it for a few minutes though." Abby counseled. Billy had successfully fought his own biology and looked back over his shoulder at Abby.

"Can I at least get up?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, sure." Abby nodded. Billy got up and turned around to look at Tony.

"Calling my manhood into question?" Billy smiled sarcastically.

"Just saying, real Marines get the real thing." Tony commented.

"Bet I can do more push ups than you can, DiNozzo." Billy stepped forward.

"You're on." Tony accepted the challenge. Billy chuckled, slid his shirt off his forearms and tossed it into the chair where he'd been sitting.

"Boys," Kate stepped between them. "If you really want to determine whose is bigger, there's a mens room."

"Want to count us off, Abby?" Tony looked to the forensic tech.

"Sure." Abby nodded with a laugh. Kate stepped to the side and stood with Ducky. Billy and Tony assumed the position on the floor and began to count off.

"Why are they doing this, Ducky?" Kate asked.

"Simple, my dear." Ducky explained. "It's an evolutionary reaction to a new male entering the ecosystem. Tony feels that his place in the tribe may be usurped by a younger, stronger male and as such, must assert his dominance."

"They're both Neanderthals." Kate shook her head.

"What are we at, Abs?" Billy questioned a few minutes later.

"Both at 67." Abby told them.

"There'd better be a really good reason for all this grab-assing." Gibbs walked into the lab and both of the guys shot to their feet. "Well?"

"Letting the ink dry on my tatt." Billy answered first.

"Uh huh." Gibbs nodded disbelievingly "Kate, DiNozzo, get your reports done?"

"Yes." Kate answered.

"See, boss." Tony started.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. "You." He pointed at Billy. "Get your shirt on if you still want to make the game." Then he turned on Tony. "I'd order Chinese food if I were you."

"Why's that, boss?" Tony was suddenly worried.

"Because after the game, I'm gonna check in back here and if you're not still here working on your after action report. You will be assigned head cleaning duties for the next week." Gibbs' stoic expression struck fear into the core of Tony's being.

"Understood, Boss." Tony gulped.

"Good." Gibbs carried a small grin. He looked over and saw Billy was ready to go. "Well, come on, don't just stand there." He encouraged the teenager who jogged toward the door. Tony was the next to leave and after him Ducky until only Kate and Abby were left standing in the lab.

"I really love working here some days." Abby laughed. "I was kind of hoping Gibbs would put the two of them in the ring."

"Maybe next weekend." Kate laughed. She took a seat. "I don't remember boys looking like that when I was in high school."

"They don't, mostly." Abby shrugged. "Most are still awkward, geeky, pimply faced nerds with more interest in their computers or their...equipment."

"So how are we accounting for him?" Kate pointed at the door.

"Genetic anomaly." Abby answered simply. "So, you're saying that if you were in high school..."

"If I went to high school with a tall, Catholic, US Army All American on track to become star recruit at the Naval Academy, my dad wouldn't _let _me date anyone else." Kate laughed. "So, why's he after me?"

"What makes you think he told me anything?" Abby asked with her best innocent look. Kate gave her best impression of the Gibbs glare. "He wants a challenge. Knows he can't get you, but thinks the girls at school aren't challenging enough. Only get better by playing tougher competition."

Kate just shook her head and smiled. "With that analogy, maybe DiNozzo is contagious."


	26. Two Faces

He knew he wasn't supposed to be there. He knew what he was risking. A long and storied career, all the heroism, the medals and the reputation. His days as a SEAL, as one of the top men in Naval Intelligence and now as the Vice Chief of Naval Operations. If he was caught, none of it would mean anything and he had been caught. He'd always been so careful at every duty station since his divorce. Saying the right things, doing the right things, never telling the truth to anyone else about who he was. Hell, he'd willingly admit that he'd lied to himself some of the time. That was one thing that he couldn't allow any more.

He wasn't going to keep lying to himself about who he was. Admiral Garrett Hanson was gay. Worse than being gay, he'd been caught. Only in the Navy was that ever worse, but it was worse tonight. A fifty-eight year old man with four stars wasn't supposed to get mixed up in all this. It was supposed to be the kind of thing that the Navy was good at flushing out, so to speak, during basic training or at the Academy. But he'd gone to a club, one that was known for attracting that kind of crowd, as so many career Naval officers had so often disparagingly referred to homosexuals throughout his career. He'd been spotted and someone had called the press to get a photo. Then they called the office of the Joint Chiefs, who informed the MPs whose responsibility it was to then detain the Admiral and transport him to the Washington Navy Yard where he would be held for questioning. All it took was the wrong MP, wrong JAG, wrong NCIS agent and these incidents could blow up really fast.

Rum, Sodomy and the lash. Once upon a time, Winston Churchill had said that was what Naval tradition was built on. Admiral Hanson let a sarcastic laugh escape his lips. Well, he'd covered two of those over the course of his Naval career, they didn't let you whip disrespectful sailors any more. He was about to be made an example of for being himself and something in the old SEAL took exception to that. His old friend AJ Chegwidden was the Judge Advocate General, he'd do his best to stay neutral and objective and would likely assign his toughest, most adept prosecutor to this case. Especially with the profile that the Washington Post was likely to give it tomorrow morning on its front page.

Should he wave his Article 32 rights and proceed directly to court martial? It was his favourite option. He didn't want to go softly into that goodnight, he felt an overwhelming urge to rage as long as there was fight in him.

Outside the interrogation room, in the hallway, Mac stood speaking with an Undersecretary from DoD about the situation that they were currently facing. "Colonel, I think you'd agree that it's best for all the parties concerned in this matter if this just went away." The Undersecretary argued.

"Sir, respectfully, that's not my job." Mac explained trying to hold back her contempt. Of all the things that the Navy chose to prosecute, this one always seemed so archaic to her. It was completely unnecessary but when the Admiral had told her it was her job to be investigator and trial counsel on this one, she took the orders as simply that, orders. "It's my job to investigate and if there is evidence to refer charges, then I have to do that. If and when we arrive at that stage, I'll discuss a plea bargain with the Admiral's counsel."

"Colonel, the man is fifty-eight, he qualifies for his pension. If he just sailed off on this one and retired, I could convince the powers that be that we could turn a blind eye here and just go our separate ways with the Admiral." The DoD Undersecretary pleaded. "We don't want this to become a press event. And it WILL become a press event if we don't smother it now."

"It's not my job, sir, to make life easier for DoD Public Affairs. It's my job to see that justice is served." Mac shot back. "Now, it's late. You should go home and get some rest, I'll go in there and interview the Admiral. But he'll probably lawyer up. The investigation will start tomorrow at the Pentagon likely and carry through the week. Considering the charges, I should know by then whether charges will be referred to the convening authority."

"Which in this case would be the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs?" The DoD Undersecretary questioned.

"Actually, sir, it would be the Chief of Naval Operations." Mac replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a job to do." Mac pushed the door open and entered the interrogation room. "Admiral Hanson, I'm Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, the JAG investigator assigned to this case. Before we start, can I assume that the you were briefed as to your Article 32 rights?"

"I was ." The Admiral affirmed.

"Good." Mac nodded. "Do you want to tell me your account of what happened or do you want to wait for your lawyer?"

"I was caught getting a drink and rhythmically moving in a club." The Admiral answered.

"A club known in Washington as a frequent haunt of the city's gay community?" Mac questioned.

"There were an awful lot of men there." The Admiral toyed.

"Did you know that it was a gay bar, sir?" Mac put her elbows on the table.

"Even if I did, Colonel, hanging out in one isn't a crime under the UCMJ, is it?" The Admiral was still playing coy.

"No, sir, it isn't but wrongful cohabitation is." Mac came back.

"Is that what I'm being charged with, Colonel?" For the Admiral, this game was getting old.

"No, sir, but you know that the specific article under which charges would be brought states that to be charged the individual must have shown a willingness or propensity to engage in or intent to engage in homosexual activity." Mac too was weary of the game.

"And you think drinking and shuffling around in a bar qualifies?" The Admiral laughed sarcastically.

"Due respect, sir, I think an investigation will tell me." Mac answered stoically.

"Think I'd like to exercise that right to counsel now." The Admiral flashed a quick grin and Mac got up from the table. A member of the Military Police came in from the hallway and escorted the Admiral to the phone. On the way, Admiral Hanson had a chance to think about which lawyer to call. He knew that JAG would assign him one if he so desired and encountering Colonel MacKenzie just now told him that AJ Chegwidden had likely assembled a stable of real thoroughbreds out at JAG HQ. He could obtain civilian counsel if he wanted but paying a beltway bandit who didn't really have any skin in the game seemed contrary to the former SEAL's aim. Then his mind turned to his work with the Joint Chiefs, he knew just the pit bull that he needed for this job. Punching in the number for the Pentagon switchboard, he waited for an answer. "Yeah, this is Admiral Hanson, patch me through to Captain Harmon Rabb's cell phone please."

1335 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac strode into the Admiral's office along with Captain Elena Ramirez at just after 1830 the next morning. Upon arriving in the Admiral's office, Mac noticed that Harm was already in there speaking with the Admiral. The two Marines came to attention in front of their CO's desk. "At ease." The Admiral waved them down. "Captain Ramirez, this is Captain Harmon Rabb, Jr." The Admiral made the necessary introductions. "Both the Captain and Colonel MacKenzie are aware of what's happened, so I'll catch you up to speed. Last night Admiral Gary Hanson was detained by the Military Police on suspicion of having violated 10 USC 654(b)."

"The don't ask, don't tell policy, sir?" Captain Ramirez questioned.

"That is correct." The Admiral slid his spectacles down his nose. "Colonel MacKenzie was rousted out of bed last night and dragged down to the Navy yard to kick start the investigation. My understanding is that the Captain was himself awoken mere moments later when Admiral Hanson exercised his right to counsel."

"That's correct, sir." Harm answered, hands folded in front of his chest.

"Well, here's what's going to happen. The Colonel will investigate and provide trial counsel in the event that a court martial is necessary. Because the Admiral has opted to retain Captain Rabb as counsel, he will provide primary defence counsel for him. However, because the Captain has certain responsibilities to the Joint Chiefs which may make him unavailable during parts of the trial in the event of an emergency, I am assigning you, Captain to sit second chair for the defence in the event that this goes to trial. Are we clear?"

"Aye, sir." Everyone answered simultaneously.

"Good." The Admiral looked down at his desk.

"I trust you won't be talking to my client without me present again, Colonel?" Harm commented, casting a sideways glance over at Mac.

"Not unless it's your client's idea, Captain." Mac got to her feet. "Permission to be dismissed, sir?"

"You're all, dismissed." The Admiral nodded and the three officers disappeared through the door.

"Sir, I just wanted to say even though we've never worked together before, well your legend looms large in this office." Elena Ramirez commented to her co-counsel as they headed through the Admiral's outer office.

"Only good things I hope." Harm chuckled nervously.

"Don't worry, I don't think anyone told her about the time you opened automatic weapons fire in the courtroom." Mac joked over her shoulder. "Or the time you were put in charge of JAG ops and proceeded to make falling backward out of the Admiral's chair your first order of business."

"Sir?" Captain Ramirez stopped in the middle of the bullpen.

"I have very good reasons for both those things." Harm assured his co-counsel.

"Oh, this ought to be good." Mac stopped and turned around to face Harm. "The reasons?"

"Justice." Harm offered simply.

"Uh huh." Mac grinned and shook her head. "Well, I'll get on with my investigation and we'll see who's serving the best interests of justice when I'm done."

"That a challenge, Colonel?" Harm shouted across the bullpen.

"If you're so inclined, Captain." Mac shut her office door behind her.

"So, what do we do know?" Captain Ramirez turned to her senior officer.

"We check in with our client, so that he can get acquainted with you. Then after he tells us his side of the story again, I'm going to head back to the Pentagon, check in with my office and hunt down any leads that might exist in the Admiral's office. You're going to go to the bar, get copies of security tapes, interview the staff and chase down potential witnesses." Harm directed as they headed out of the bullpen.

"Couldn't that be taken as interfering with the government investigation?" Captain Ramirez asked as the two of them stepped on to the elevator. The elevator doors closed and Harm pulled the emergency stop.

"How long have you been assigned to JAG Headquarters, Captain?" Harm turned to face Ramirez.

"Almost a year, sir." She gulped while she answered.

"When you're here a little longer, you'll realize that politics poisons everything in this town. The Colonel has no choice but to refer charges because this case was published on the front page of the Washington Post this morning. Her hand has been forced." Harm put his hands on his hips. "So now, we've got to use the window." Harm looked down at his watch. "37 hours approximately before evidence starts to degrade and witnesses start altering their stories. There's no rule against conducting our own investigation and that's just what we're going to do."

"You do have a reputation for being assertive, sir." Captain Ramirez smiled.

"I believe the Admiral's short hand for that was G-PITA, Captain." Harm released the emergency stop.

"G-PITA, sir?" The Captain was again puzzled.

"Giant Pain In The Ass." Harm explained and Captain Ramirez laughed.

1410 ZULU, THE NEXT FRIDAY

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm had been right, but it wasn't as if there was much doubt about that in the end. The press attention had forced Mac's hand in investigating this case and it would force the Navy's hand in making sure that the trial was conducted in a speedy and efficient manner. Print reporters would be allowed to sit in, but no television cameras. Voir Dire had provided its own unique challenge, after all, only three flag officers had ever been court martialed in Naval history and Harm had been the defence attorney in the last case where one had been tried. As it had been with Admiral Boone, so it had been with Admiral Hanson as well. Finding six flag officers to sit as members who had little or at least neutral personal contact with Admiral Hanson over the course of their careers was a difficult task and one that it had taken two mornings to complete.

Now they were supposed to have opening statements. Mac could anticipate Harm's argument. It had been months since they last faced each other in court, more than a year since they'd faced each other on a regular basis. But Harm was like a good starting pitcher. His go to pitch, his fastball as it were, was the emotional argument. He knew how to build momentum, how to use his inflection, how to use cadence to reel the members in. He could lean on that pitch and he did when he got in trouble. His curveball, well Mac knew that one, too. Harm was a good lawyer and even the ones with the best gas behind their emotional fastball still weren't good enough to ignore the facts of a case all together and expect a jury, and especially a military jury, to side with them. So, Harm would play with the facts of the case as he saw fit. She knew he'd throw that curve but not necessarily what it would look like.

Would it be a deceptive half slider, half curveball, that cut across all the facts of the case without hitting on any specific one too much? Would it be a 12-6 curve that attacked one set of facts but not in the way that a typical lawyer would go after it? She remembered Leo McGarry once telling her that he loved watching Jed Bartlet prep for a debate because it reminded him of how an all star pitcher prepared for each inning. She figured that Harm was much the same way in a courtroom. Watching him walk out from behind the defence table was analogous to watching a dominant pitcher stride out of the dug-out for a new inning. Watching him pace the floor as he made his argument, just like watching that same pitcher work the dirt on the mound, making it do exactly as he wanted. Each pause, each word selection, just like each ignored or agreed to sign from the catcher made to instill doubt or thought in the mind of the intended audience.

"This court martial will come to order." The MP announced as Admiral Morris made his entrance into the courtroom.

"Before we start, I know that we have some members of the print media present. Let me warn your photographers that I will not stand for any distractions while we're in session. One violation confiscates your camera, a second one revokes your credentials and you'll be forced to rely on your press colleagues for accounts of what went on." That Admiral's piercing glare tore through the courtroom. "Colonel MacKenzie, is the government ready to proceed?"

"We are, your honour." Mac rose from her chair for a second.

"Captain Rabb, is the defence ready to proceed?" The Admiral turned to Harm.

"We are as well, your honour." Harm too rose from his chair.

"Very well." The Admiral made a quick note. "We'll start with opening statements then. Colonel MacKenzie, the government may proceed."

Mac nodded and smoothed out her uniform jacket as she rose from her chair. "The facts of this case are simple." Mac moved toward the members slowly. "Federal law as codified as a part of the Uniform Code of Military Justice makes the participation or intent to participate in homosexual acts a crime. Whether you agree with that or not is irrelevant. Your oaths do not command that you pass judgment on the law but rather that you uphold the law as written. Over the course of the next several days you will be presented with evidence and arguments that show that Admiral Gary Hanson violated that statute." Mac paused and exhaled a hard breath.

"The defence will argue that Admiral Hanson is a war hero. They're right. He won a Silver Star in Vietnam, and has been awarded four purple hearts for being wounded in combat. The defence will argue that Admiral Hanson is an officer with an incredible service record. They're right, he's gotten outstanding fit reps from commanding officers since he was an Ensign fresh out of the Naval Academy. The fact of the matter is that the Admiral's record and the Admiral's heroism is not on trial here." Mac turned toward the defence table and pointed at the defendant. "The Admiral's actions are on trial here. His actions in this matter are separate from his record and separate from his heroism. The prosecution will prove that Admiral Hanson knowingly and with willful intent violated the law. And for that, you will be left with no other option than to find him guilty." Mac paused for a second before heading back to the prosecution table.

"Captain Rabb, your opening statement." Admiral Morris looked to the defence table.

Harm got up from his chair and strode purposefully into the middle of the courtroom. "10 USC 654(b) makes the participation in or intent to participate in homosexual acts a crime for members of the military. However, in the years since this law was written, the policy surrounding the service of homosexuals has come to be known as don't ask, don't tell, don't pursue. Put simply, be gay but don't be proud of yourself. It's a kind of condescension that is extended only to homosexual members of the military. They are no less American, no less patriotic, no less endowed with courage or intelligence or creativity than heterosexual members of the service. The only difference is one that the government makes. You can be openly, flagrantly and even embarrassingly heterosexual and unless you commit a crime, the Navy won't say a word. If you're openly gay in the Navy, you're no longer in the Navy."

Harm looked at the flag for a second before looking back at the members. "The policy is based on the belief that homosexuals are believed to be detrimental to unit cohesion and morale. That gay members of the service would be unable to control their physical urges if they were to serve openly. After tailhook and countless Academy and basic training sexual harassment cases, I'm not exactly willing to concede that open heterosexuals in the service can claim the moral high ground in that argument. I'm not here to attack the Navy, I love the Navy. I've served it honourably as an aviator and I'm a proud Academy graduate. I don't mean to attack our institutions."

Harm paused again and looked at Mac. "And either does Admiral Hanson." Harm's eyes locked on hers before turning back toward the members. "The defence will prove, over the course of the next several days that, Admiral Hanson did not violate any of the articles outline in 10 USC 654(b) and the prosecution simply cannot prove that he did. The prosecution simply can prove that the Admiral formed intent to do so. And Colonel MacKenzie knows that the same article under which the Admiral is charged, 10 USC 654(b) prevents her or me or any member of the service from asking. When this court martial is put in your hands, you will have more than just the foundation of reasonable doubt." Harm took another breath and returned to his seat.

1710 ZULU

BISHOP DENIS J. O'CONNELL HIGH SCHOOL

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Darren Rokowski was the back-up Quarterback for the O'Connell Knights and Billy Ross' best friend. He was a junior in high school, expected to be the starter for the Knights next year and had already given a verbal commitment to Penn State for the 2005 season as a freshman. On this particular April Friday, he, Billy Ross, Clara Bailey and Melanie Randolph were returning from lunch in Rokowski's old Chrysler Intrepid. They figured that they'd enter through the gym equipment locker door, just like always. It was the best way to return to school after skipping third period and not wanting to be grabbed by your teachers. "Billy, hang back for a second." Darren called at Billy who had started walking toward the door with Clara and Melanie. Billy dropped his arm down from around Clara's waist and jogged back over to where his friend was leaning up against his car.

"Darren, man, what's up? You didn't enjoy lunch with the girls?" Billy nodded to his friend.

"Listen, when I suggested lunch today it was because I had decided to tell you something. Not because I wanted a quick double date." Darren lectured in a quiet, fraternal voice.

"Well, what did you want to tell me?" Billy leaned on the car next to Darren.

"Billy, this isn't exactly easy to say." Darren looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure there was no one in earshot.

"Come on, man, we're practically brothers." Billy smiled to encourage his friend.

"Doesn't exactly make it easier, Bill." Darren shook his head.

"Will you just spit it out already?" The anticipation showed through the smile on Billy's face.

"I'm gay, Billy, you happy?" Darren shot, unimpressed that his friend hadn't let him come out with it a little slower. He watched as the expression on Billy's face changed.

"Are you sure?" Was Billy's first thought.

"Oh, pretty sure." Darren nodded his head.

"Wait, you didn't tell me just now because you thought I was..." Billy started, having immediately felt self conscious.

"Oh will you get over yourself." Darren shook his head. "Just because every XX chromosome falls at your feet at this school doesn't mean that gay men are going to."

"Okay, true." Billy smiled again. "You realize you have to be careful who you tell, right?"

Darren's eyes searched for a reason. "Well, I figured. But why do you think..."

"We play football." Billy started. "Not exactly the most open minded sports community. If Penn State finds out, they will revoke your scholarship. They won't say it's because of that, they just won't give a reason." Billy put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You have to make a name for yourself first. You want to be known as the football player who happens to be gay, not just the gay football player."

"You really think football is what I'm concerned with right now?" Darren shook his head in slight disappointment. "What do you think my dad's gonna do when he finds out. Opus Dei aren't exactly known for warming up to this kind of thing. Not to mention what this will do to my mother when I tell her."

"Listen, you've got to be who you want to be." Billy advised. "But it might do you more good to use discretion on this one, pal." Billy gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Now, let's take the girls back inside, huh?" Darren gave a sarcastic snort and walked with Billy toward the equipment locker door. Billy popped the hatch and showed the girls inside. They moved through the maze of balls, bats, rackets and other gear until they reached the door that opened on to the gym. Opening the door, Billy noticed that the hallways were suspiciously empty. He craned he head in either direction down the hallway.

"What's up?" Clara questioned over Billy's right shoulder.

"Silence." Billy whispered curiously. He checked the hallway again before hearing the sound of gunshots come from down the hallway. "Back into the locker, now!" Billy turned around and guided everyone back through the gym toward the secure room. The girls ran and got their first, Billy and Darren hung back to cover their backs. "I knew the school shouldn't have gotten rid of the metal detectors."

"You believe the media, they'll tell you this stuff doesn't happen in private school." Darren grunted as they slammed the equipment locker door behind them.

"How many do you think there are?" Clara panicked as Billy locked the locker door from the inside.

"Wouldn't be more than four or five." Billy stated. "I remember reading an article in Time Magazine. It said that the way the cops are fighting back against school shootings, one of the way is that students are taking threats more seriously when they here them. It's called leakage. The smaller the group of conspirators, the more likely they'll succeed."

"What else did that article say?" Darren asked.

"That the shooters are most likely to be male and that profiling them looking for personal history indicators or personality traits is a non-starter." Billy picked up an aluminum bat off the wall. "And that students and teachers are taught better for lockdown and evacuation procedures. Which is a double edged sword if the shooters are students because..."

"Because if the shooters are students, they know the procedures." Darren finished. "Explains why they did it at lunch. The teachers are in the staff room, the door to which was probably barricaded to prevent the teachers from getting out. Means there's no one to lead an evacuation."

"Didn't see any cops out front, so we must have gotten in here just after everything started." Billy looked around the locker and started loading baseballs into his backpack. "There was something else in that article, it was called the active shooter protocol. It basically means that cops are now trained in these situations to walk over dying students in order to make sure the shooter is taken down."

"That's encouraging." Melanie was huddled in a corner. She watched as Billy tossed a baseball bat to Darren. "What are you doing?"

"No teachers here to lead an evacuation, someone's got to do it." Billy answered. "It's lunch time, where are the most kids?"

"Cafeteria and library." Darren answered.

"Exactly. Probably 300 or so, maybe a little more in Caff. Say 50 to 70 in the library." Billy theorized. "They're gonna need one guy in the hallway checking for stragglers."

"Why do it at lunch?" Darren questioned.

"If I had a guess?" Billy shrugged. "Least chance of actually hurting someone. Most of the juniors and seniors leave at lunch, so do any of the kids who live near by. I don't think they're shooting to kill."

"Not exactly a lot to hang your hat on, Bill." Darren took a few baseballs from his friend. "Should we take any of the archery gear?"

"You any good with a bow and arrow?" Billy gulped.

"No." Darren answered.

"Me either. Which sucks, we could really use some range weapons." Billy cracked open the locker door. "You two. Stay here. Don't open the door for any one. Or at least make sure that you know it's me or Darren." Billy instructed the girls.

"And how will I know it's you?" Clara challenged him.

"How many men at this school know your bra size?" Billy laughed as he stepped through the locker door. Darren followed him and they watched as the girls shut the door behind them.

"What are the baseballs for?" Darren asked.

"Same purpose as a flash bang." Billy told him. "If you're going to use one, throw it far and hit something metal. It'll provide a distraction. Situation like this, a few seconds might be all we need." Billy instructed. "I don't need to tell you what the baseball bat is for, right?"

"No." Darren shook his head.

"Swing at joints. Elbows, knees, wrists, ankles, that kind of thing. You'll maximize damage." Billy instructed. "Collar bone and ribs are effective too but you might kill them."

"No head shots?" Darren inquired as they stopped in front of the gym door.

"Not unless you don't have any other choice." Billy told him. They opened the gym door and headed down the hallway. "Library first." Billy directed as they crept along the lockers that ran down each wall. They rounded a corner and saw the windows from the library looking out into the hallway. "We're gonna have to take this one a little faster. Stay on the balls of your feet and make sure you lift them." Billy's heart was starting to pound. "One squeak from the sole of a shoe and we could be going out of here in body bags."

"Pleasant image, thanks." Darren rolled his eyes. They got closer and closer to the library and Billy saw all the other students lying on the floor with their hands over their heads. Billy watched one kid standing, roaming the room, he looked like the shooter. "Shouldn't the cops be coming in any time soon?"

"They lock the door once the bell rings in the morning, remember?" Billy whispered. They never remembered to lock the equipment locker door, if only he could tell the cops that. "Here's the plan. Next time his back is to the door, you take your bat and smash the window. That should allow me to open the door without being seen. Once I'm inside, I should be able to take him down."

"What the hell makes you think you're that good?" Darren questioned.

"A general lack of other options." Billy answered. He slunk over next to the door, crouching low against the tile of the hallway. He kept and eye on Darren who kept his eyes trained on his best friend. He saw Billy wind up to take a swing at the glass and prepared to burst through the door. He saw the swing in motion and did just that, sneaking in behind the librarian's counter where he found the librarian, Mr. Swider, on the ground with a single slug in his leg. Billy put a single finger to his lips, indicating the librarian should stay quiet. He watched the shooter come over toward the broken window. As he neared, Billy crouched down and prepared to swing. Once the shooter was in range, Billy took a swing and clipped the boy square on the knee, sending him tumbling to the carpet and the gun, spiraling from his hands. In a second, Billy was on him, one hand under his jaw and the other on the back of his head. It was a self-defence move that his Uncle AJ had taught him in the event someone ever broke into the house.

"Listen to me." Billy told the young man. "You move a muscle and I'll exert the 66 pounds of pressure necessary to snap your neck. You're gonna tell me how many more there are and where they are, alright?" He loosened his grip and the kid nodded. "Good, how many?"

"3." The kid gulped.

"Where are they?" Billy continued.

"2 in the cafeteria. One outside the staff room on the second floor." The kid answered.

"You had a Glock 9mm, what do they have?" Billy finished up.

"One Tec-9 and a a revolver, don't know what calibre." The kid was on the verge of tears. Darren walked over to the two of them.

"Alright." Darren brought all the other students in the room to attention. "It's safe in here. Stand up." The kids got to their feet. Billy took off his uniform tie and tied the former shooter's hands behind his back. Then he and Darren walked over to one of the outdoor windows and cracked it with the bat.

"Guys!" A kid in a letterman jacket jogged over.

"Frankie!" Darren cheered upon noticing the familiar O'Connell linebacker.

"Hey, Frank." Billy nodded.

"Damn, guys, that was impressive." Frankie smiled. "What do we do now?"

"Now, Frankie, you make sure everyone gets out of here okay, alright?" Billy instructed. "Use the window. All the outside doors are locked except the one that leads on to the equipment locker off the gym. Tell the cops when they get here."

"Before you check out, Mr. Swider is down behind the counter. He's got a bullet in his leg, take off your belt and tighten it around the wound, it should slow the bleeding. At least if first aid training is to be believed." Darren added.

"One problem, they took our cell phones, threatened to shoot anyone who tried to use theirs." Frankie told them. "Cops might not be here yet."

"Someone will have called." Billy gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Just keep everyone safe, Frank."

"And you guys?" Frankie offered.

"We're gonna go get everyone else." Darren told him.

1733 ZULU

NCIS HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

"Gibbs." Kate said from her desk.

"DiNozzo, you gotta anything on that security tape we got from Norfolk?" Gibbs looked over his computer.

"Gibbs." Kate stated again.

"Nothing yet, boss." Tony answered, his eyes scanning his computer.

"Gibbs." Kate used a little more force.

"I'm gonna go see if Abby has anything." Gibbs got out from behind his desk.

"GIBBS!" Kate shouted and all action in the squad room went silent. "You might want to see this." Kate punched a key on her keyboard and the live CNN feed showed up on the flat-screen. "It's at Bishop O'Connell, isn't that?"

"Yeah, it is." Gibbs answered. "McGee!"

"Yeah, boss." Tim looked up from his computer screen.

"Can you hack into their security cameras?" Gibbs turned to his junior agent.

"Norfolk or..." McGee was flustered.

"The school, McGee!" Gibbs demanded.

"Uh, probably, boss. If they've got a server or an email portal, it should be pretty easy." Tim began working the keys on his keyboard.

"Tony, you get downstairs, get any news from Abby on the rape kit we got on that rape case at Norfolk." Gibbs directed. "Break the news to her and Ducky very gently."

"Will do, boss." Tony launched himself toward the elevator.

"McGee, the second you patch into that system, I want it up on the screen." Gibbs demanded.

"Shouldn't we be doing something, Gibbs?" Kate asked, moving out into the middle of the squad room.

"Like what, Kate?" Gibbs turned on one of his senior field agents. "You think the two of us should go down there, interfere with the Virginia state troopers, Metro PD, the ATF and FBI without any support from our Director?"

"Never stopped you before." Kate answered with a shrug.

Gibbs thought for a second and a smirk came to his face. "True." He grabbed his Sig. "McGee, I want updates every five minutes about what you're seeing on the screen."

"Uh, boss, what do I do if the Director asks me where you and Kate are?" McGee punched the security camera feed on the big screen.

"Use your initiative, Elf Lord!" Gibbs called from his way to the elevator with Kate following in tow. The elevator doors closed behind them and they rode down to the garage.

"You know, we all heard about Columbine but I guess, I never figured that something like this would happen around here." Kate shook her head.

"We don't know that anyone's dead yet." Gibbs told her. "Right now this might just be a hostage situation."

"What could they possibly want, if it was a hostage situation?" Kate pressed. "Gibbs, the problem with school shooting is that there is not consistent profile of the suspect. The only thing they have in common is that they're all male and they've all suffered a recent loss."

"Recent loss?" Gibbs questioned as the two of them strode toward the car.

"Could be anything. The death of a family member, a pet, a difficult romantic break-up, heck even being cut from a sports team or rejected from the college of your choice." Kate explained.

"Kids take guns into school because they didn't make the JV basketball team?" Gibbs' brow furrowed intensely.

"It's all about the size of their ego. The greater the ego, the greater the perceived slight." Kate continued as Gibbs peeled out of the parking garage. The two of them rode in relative silence all the way out to Arlington. When they arrived on the scene, the pandemonium was predictable. There was police tape up. The Virginia State Troopers and Metro PD had secured the perimeter with the FBI running their command centre. A wave of his badge got Gibbs and Kate passed the police tape.

"Jethro, what the hell are you doing here?" Special Agent Tobias Fornell strode away from his FBI colleagues.

"I know for a fact Tobias that there are Navy and Marine Corps dependents in that building, Tobias." Gibbs replied.

"That's a flimsy excuse, even for NCIS." Fornell jousted back. "And I know you didn't come down here just because you thought I needed another set of eyes."

"Could you?" Gibbs realized Fornell was giving him a way in.

"I don't think so, we've got floor plans. Even intelligence on where the rest of the shooters are and what they're armed with." Fornell answered and waved Gibbs over to where the floor plan was set out. "According to the one shooter we've apprehended so far, there are two shooters in the cafeteria and one protecting a barricade in front of the second floor staff room n the other side of the building. Problem is there are some 300 hostages in the cafeteria."

Gibbs' phone rang and he picked it up. "Yeah."

"Boss, we ran an equation to determine how many kids are inside the cafeteria." McGee started. "Final count is 341."

"341 kids in the cafeteria, Tobias." Gibbs covered the receiver on the phone.

"How do you know that?" Fornell looked puzzled.

"McGee hacked the security cameras." Gibbs grinned, Fornell rolled his eyes. "Active shooter protocol in place?"

"It's my call but I've got a bunch of scared parents standing outside the police tape who aren't gonna be thrilled if one of my guys steps over their shot and dying kid." Fornell answered. "Right now, my guys who are in the building have been told to take out the kid on the second floor, that's all.

"Boss, we have another problem." McGee stated. "There a couple kids walking through the hallways toward the cafeteria."

"More shooters?" Gibbs questioned. McGee zoomed in on the figures.

"Negative, boss, no guns but they've got baseball bats." McGee told him. Gibbs hung up the phone and headed toward the shooter that the FBI had in custody.

"Who wrecked your knee?" Gibbs questioned noting the splint around the joint and the kid shrugged at him. Gibbs' ire rose incredibly. "Who wrecked your knee?!" Gibbs shouted.

"Some ninja football player, I dunno." The kid answered in a panic. "Threatened to snap my neck if I didn't tell him where the others were and what they were packing." Gibbs backed off and ran a hand over his hair.

"It was Billy Ross and Darren Rokowski."Clara Bailey stepped forward.

1756 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The gang at JAG stood in front of the CNN televisions watching the drama that was unfolding just on the other side of the capital beltway from Falls Church. Mac's face paled, Harm's too. There was no way that this could be happening again. Admiral Morris' granddaughter went to Bishop O'Connell and as a result, the court martial would have to resume tomorrow, after everything was solved at the school. "I'm sure he got out, right?" Mac asked Harm weakly as they stood in the bullpen. "He's a smart kid, he probably helped get the other kids out."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Harm gave her a hug. He lied. Mac didn't need know what he honestly thought and he didn't need her upset and storming down to the school. He knew exactly where Billy Ross was, if he was still alive. Whether it was an overabundance of courage or foolishness, that kid wasn't one to let this kind of behaviour go unchecked. The Admiral walked out of his office and stared up at the television.

"When my wife called me I didn't believe it." The Admiral stated. "She said that my in-laws were wearing holes in the linoleum of their kitchen floor trying to get news."

"I would figure that the General would want to be down there at the scene, sir." Harm wondered aloud. Harm's cell phone rang, he reached into his inside pocket and grabbed it. "Rabb."

"Harm, it's Lily Flanagan, Billy's mother." The voice on the other end of the phone stated in a weak tone.

"Oh, uh, hi." Harm stammered a response.

"I just heard." She was almost whispering. "Is there anything that you guys would know that I wouldn't have been told."

"No." Harm shook his head. "It doesn't appear, at the moment, as though there are any casualties but the FBI doesn't have a man inside according to CNN."

"Do you think he's going to be okay, Harm?" Lily questioned, her nerves obviously fraying on the other side of the phone.

"I do." Harm nodded. This time he wasn't lying. What had happened with his father, no one, no matter how talented can predict how the building structure is going to react. How, the flames are gonna move. How much longer you can safely eat smoke before you pass out. Harm had joked to Mac once when they talked about the now infamous hunting trip that if he didn't know Nate was Billy's father, he would have sworn that the boy was half bloodhound. After Waco, it wasn't as if the FBI had the best track record with this thing. Hell, these kids were probably expecting FBI windbreakers and bulletproof vests to come bursting through the doors. Hoping to catch a few of their classmates in the crossfire as they committed suicide by cop.

"He just tends to get himself in trouble, you know? Almost like he goes looking for it. So much like his dad. " Harm could almost hear Lily shake her head as she said that. "I looked for him on TV when they showed that first group of kids being evacuated from the school. I expected to see that blue and silver letter jacket leading the crowd.

"You know the way the men in that family are. They won't leave anyone behind if they can help it." Harm counseled her in an attempt to soothe her. "I'll call you back Lily if we hear anything from the scene." Harm assured the worried mother.

"Okay." She answered simply and Harm hung up the phone.

"Billy's mom?" Mac asked.

"She's worried." Harm whispered.

"Understandable." Mac nodded. "I'm torn between the confidence I have that this kid is capable of handling himself and the rational side of my brain that says no sixteen year old..."

"Fifteen, Mac." Harm corrected with a smile.

"Three weeks, Harm." Mac told him. "Is equipped to deal with this. He has to learn that he's not invincible."

"My grandmother had a saying. She used to say that they make teenagers privates because they think they're invincible. They make fifty year olds Generals because they expect them to know better." Harm tried to get her to smile. He got a smile and he grinned himself. "See, in tough situations people need to see Marines calm or they start worrying."

"I couldn't help but think, if he gets out of this one too, Webb's gonna try to recruit him for the CIA before long." Mac laughed lightly. "Do you know anyone you can call for news?"

"No." Harm shook his head. "Guess we're stuck playing the waiting game."

1806 ZULU

BISHOP DENIS J. O'CONNELL HIGH SCHOOL

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Alright, so how do you want to do this?" Darren looked to his younger friend. Both of them were trying to catch their breath.

"You think I've got any experience with this?" Billy shook his head in disbelief. "You and I are about to try taking down two armed and probably unstable teenagers with guns while armed only with aluminum ball bats and baseballs. This is crazy, even for me."

"We could always turn back." Darren suggested. "You'd never even consider it."

"No, would you?" Billy smiled.

"I'm with you to the end." Darren grinned, the first real time all afternoon.

"Well, let's just hope that isn't today." Billy started moving toward the cafeteria. He peaked through the glass window in the door. Just like the library, he saw shooters patrolling the aisles while the rest of the students lay on the ground, their hands over their heads. "I have no idea how we're going to get in there undetected."

"A distraction from the cops would be greatly appreciated right about now." Darren shot sarcastically. Just as he did, the lights overhead flashed. You didn't have to see too many action movies to know what was coming next. The power to the school was cut from the outside and the two football players used the momentary confusion to mask the sound of the cafeteria doors entering and allowing them entrance. They used recycling receptacles as cover so that they could observe their adversaries' movements without being spotted. They were near enough to a couple tables that they figured one of the shooters would have to make his rounds eventually.

This was going all wrong. School shootings were supposed to be random, frantic, crazy and violent. A few kids looked like they might be wounded but the shooters were too aware. They weren't ready to die, they just wanted to scare the others. If they weren't ready to die, it likely meant they weren't ready to kill anyone. Darren pointed at a shooter nearing their location and Billy nodded. He'd executed one take down today, another in the same form would likely follow. "Take your tie off." Billy instructed and Darren untied it.

The shooter neared and Billy readied a full swing with the bat. Just as he was about to pass, Billy let the swing go and clipped the boy at the ankles, sending him down to the floor. He let go of the Tec-9 and Darren jumped on it. Billy took Darren's tie and used it to muzzle their now incapacitated opponent. The clatter of the gun on the tile floor drew attention, but Billy and Darren managed to get the muzzled shooter back into their hiding spot. When he tried to groan and alert his friend, Darren punched him under his left eye, knocking him out. But the other one was suspicious now. The other shooter slowly moved away, back toward the front of the cafeteria. Both football players took a deep breath.

"What now, Sherlock?" Darren jousted sarcastically.

"Pray?" Billy joked. "If I distract him, you think you're fast enough to get around behind him?"

"You're the receiver, aren't you more suited to that job?" Darren asked, somewhat worried. The reality of what they were doing was sinking in.

"You'd rather be the bait?" Billy questioned.

"Good point." Darren nodded, took off his belt and tied the one incapacitated shooter's feet together in the hiding spot so that he couldn't move. "See you on the other side?"

"Yeah." Billy nodded. Darren moved back over to the door. Billy fished a baseball out his bag and fired a throw at a steel trashcan about twenty feet away. The clang drew the attention of the remaining gunman and allowed Darren to scramble about fifteen feet down the opposite side of the room. Knowing he was trying his luck, Billy fired off another throw against the trashcan, this time giving away his location. Thinking he was under attack, the gunmen fired off four shots from his revolver. The first three missed Billy, the fourth one hit his chest just inside his shoulder. Having passed through a recycling bin through, it made a comparatively shallow wound. "I'm coming out." Billy announced and dropped his stuff to the floor. He raised his right arm in the air and his left arm as far as he could painlessly do. "You don't want to do this." Billy told him as he walked out, staring down the barrel of the revolver.

"What makes you so sure?" The kid asked.

"Because, if you wanted to kill people, you'd have wasted those four bullets before I got here." Billy was pouring sweat. "Listen, you can still walk out of here alive." He tried to negotiate. He tried to think of what Gibbs would do. "You fire one more shot and the FBI's gonna break that door down and turn your brains into spaghetti sauce. Drop the gun, we can all walk out of here." His shoulder was in eight kinds of pain, but he'd scream later. He wanted to cry something fierce but he could choke them back for now.

"How do I know you're right?" The kid asked

"You don't." Billy shook his head. "But if I'm wrong, then you're dead either way, so what have you got to lose?" Billy watched Darren climb to his feet behind the assailant and inch toward him. He just had to buy him a few more seconds. "Come on, man, we're all tired, we're all scared we just want to go home."

"I don't get to go home." The kid shot back.

"You're not only hurting people in this room." Billy decided he had to stop moving. The more he moved, the more he bled. "Think of the people outside. The parents, the grandparents, little brothers and sisters. They didn't do anything to you, man, don't make it worse for them." Darren continued to inch toward the shooter until he foot accidentally kicked a cafeteria table creating a rumbling noise. The shooter turned and fired, hitting Darren in the chest. Sending him to the floor. Seeing the shooter turn, Billy took three steps, leapt through the air and tackled him to the floor. The force of the two of them hitting the floor, knocked the revolver from his hands.

The sound of the last gunshot brought the FBI team through the cafeteria doors. "Over here!" Billy called and the agents rushed over. "He's yours." Billy told them and there's another one, tied up behind the big recycling bins. Out of the corner of his eye, Billy saw blood begin to pool. "Darren!" He shouted. The receiver sprinted over, unbuckling his belt and jerking off his uniform blazer. He slid to his best friend's side only to find him losing blood by the second and growing increasingly worrisome shades of pale. Billy pressed his blazer over the bullet wound and tied it off with his belt to keep the pressure on. "I'm gonna get you out of here, buddy" Billy slid one arm under Darren's legs and the other under his waist. He tried to lift but crumbled to the ground. "AAAAAAHHHH!" His hand went to his own wound. "Stay with me, buddy." Billy lightly slapped his face to keep him conscious. "Help!" Billy cried out and one of the FBI agents came running over. "You take his arms, I'll take his legs."

"You sure, you look hurt." The agent checked.

"I'll be fine." Billy told him and on three, they hoisted Darren into the air, carried him out of the cafeteria and through the hallway. They reached the main door where they were met by the sound of sirens, the light of day and the distant whirling of helicopter blades. They handed Darren off to one set of paramedics.

Gibbs saw the familiar tall form and dark tousled hair and came running over just in time to catch the kid as he fainted. "Someone get me an ambulance!" Gibbs shouted.

0107 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, DC

The whole world knew who Billy Ross was within fifteen seconds of he and the FBI agent walking out of the school carrying Darren Rokowski. His image was sent all over the world courtesy of CNN, the Associated Press, Reuters and every other cable news and wire service in the known universe. It had been beamed into JAG Headquarters, beamed in NCIS Headquarters, over the radio in his mother's car and over the television in his grandparents' living room. Within minutes, the waiting room at GWU Hospital was crammed with people. Billy's wound had been superficial aside from the blood loss and the trauma surgery to repair him only took a few short hours, after which he'd been moved up to a private room to recover. The nurses hung a morphine drip and then allowed visitors in three at a time until he woke up.

Billy's mother held an almost constant vigil by his bedside waiting for her son's eyes to open. At different times she felt herself joined by her in-laws, Harm and Mac, AJ and Beverley and varying members of the NCIS team. Gibbs had been her most constant companion. He'd sat with a stoic silence next to the boy's bed. Much as he didn't like to admit it out loud, he'd come to have a familial kind of affection for the kid. Not dissimilar to a son he figured, though not quite that strong. "He's too young for this, Jethro." Lily stopped crying and looked up at Gibbs.

"Sixty years ago, boys only a few weeks older than him were lying about their age, putting on Marine uniforms and going into battle on Saipan and Tarawa and Iwo Jima." Gibbs stated aloud. "He did what they would have done. There are times when a man stands up. I was proud of him today."

Lily thought for a second and then bowed her head. "So was I. I just wish, ya know, that he wasn't so frustrating some times."Gibbs laughed to himself. "What's funny?"

"A lot like his father that way." Gibbs commented.

"Yeah." Lily smiled a little.

"Anything new, Agent Gibbs?" Mac brought Gibbs and Lily coffee as she walked into the room.

"Looked like his eyes were going to open for awhile there." Gibbs took a sip of his coffee.

"Lily, what happened to Simon and Owen?" Mac looked to Billy's mom.

"Their grandparents took them home for the night." Lily answered. "When do we tell him about Darren?" She looked to Mac for guidance. Mac looked to Gibbs.

"When I get Ducky's medical opinion that telling him won't send him into shock." Gibbs answered.

"His father and his best friend in one year." Lily shook her head.

"Poor kid's been through too much." Mac walked over and pushed hair out of the kid's face. "How long are the nurses letting us pack the waiting room?"

"They're giving us a pass on waiting room etiquette for the night." Gibbs answered. "The whole nation watched this kid today, more than a few of them were impressed with what they saw."

"Lily why don't Harm and I take you downstairs to grab food, you haven't had a break." Mac put a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

"Thanks, Mac." Lily nodded and rose out of her chair. For a few seconds, Gibbs sat there in silence listening to the beep and hum of the monitors. On the way over to GWU hospital, he'd stopped by the Navy Yard and picked up something. Reaching into his jacket pocket, Gibbs produced a leather box and opened it. Inside, he saw his Purple Heart. He closed the box and set it on the table at Billy's bedside. "Semper Fi, Marine." Gibbs whispered.

The door burst open behind Gibbs and the familiar sound of Abby's platform shoes came clacking into the room over the tile. "Oh, God." Abby walked over to the bed side and hugged the teenager's sleeping form. "Wake up, huh? I've got to draw your tatt back on." Then she turned back to Gibbs. "Gibbs, no one would tell me anything. I just got what I know from CNN and then McGee told Ducky and they told me..."

"Abby, calm." Gibbs directed.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs." Tony popped through the door. "She just got past me."

"It's okay, DiNozzo." Gibbs waved the senior agent off. "Abs, the Doctor says it's mostly just a flesh wound. The kid could just use some rest."

"They're gonna get them, the kids that did this, right?" Tears were staining Abby's cheeks as she hugged Gibbs.

"They're gonna get'em, Abs."Gibbs assured her as he gave her a pat on the back. Kate came walking into the room. She'd tried to avoid seeing the kid like this. It was one thing seeing a Marine or a Federal Agent sprawled out on a hospital bed with a gunshot wound. It was something else completely to see a kid who'd been shot at his own high school laying on a hospital bed like that. She walked over to the bedside and a few images flashed in front of her face. All the times he'd made a pass at her, all the clumsy teenage attempts to flirt with her. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "If you don't come out of this, I'm gonna have to kiss McGee or DiNozzo under the mistletoe next Christmas." Kate whispered, her own little humorous attempt to wake the kid.

But he stirred. His eyelids danced and he groaned. "I know that perfume." He whispered and his eyes opened.

"Oh, no way." Kate backed away from the bed. Gibbs chuckled to himself.

"Bout time you came to, Marine." Gibbs directed. "You had your mother worried sick."

"Sorry, Gunny." Billy groaned as he sat up.

"Abs, go get Ducky." Gibbs directed.

"You scared the hell out of everyone." Kate put her hands on her hips. "You couldn't just evacuate with the rest of the kids you saved from the library?"

"Never leave... a man behind." Billy reached for his bandaged shoulder. Ducky and Abby came walking through the door.

"Ah, young William, back to the land of the living I see." Ducky walked over to the bed side. He decided to first examine Billy's pupils. "Eyes open, my boy. Follow the light." Once he was done his first test, he stuck the stethoscope in his ears. "Alright, deep breaths." He waited a few seconds. "No breathing irregularities." Ducky pulled out his sphygmomanometer, slid the cuff over Billy's arm and inflated the cuff. "Blood pressure is still a little low but that's not abnormal considering how much blood you lost, my boy." Ducky went to the foot of the bed and examined Billy's chart. "You're quite lucky your assailant was such a bad shot. An inch to the right and he would have punctured your lung. An inch to the left and you would not be playing football next year."

"Seems, from my perspective, like he was a pretty good shot then, Duck." Billy groaned and Ducky laughed. Gibbs took Ducky aside for a second.

"Is he in any danger, Duck?" Gibbs whispered.

"Well, he should avoid strenuous activity with that arm for awhile, Jethro. But other than that, I don't believe so." Ducky answered. "I will say that this reminds me of a case my mother told me about a boy a little younger than Billy who pulled several strangers out of a collapsed building during the London blitz."

"Duck, tell the kid the story in a few minutes, okay? We've got to break some bad news to him first." Gibbs nodded to his ME before looking over his shoulder and watching as Lily, Mac and Harm entered the hospital room. Tony walked in with them and shut the door behind them.

"I told them, boss." Tony shrugged as he leaned up against door. Lily was the first to hug her son. She was followed in turn by Mac, both of them had gone easy on his bad shoulder. Harm stuck his hand out and Billy used his good one to shake it.

"Why does everyone look so morose?" Billy looked around the room. "We saved the day."

"It's not that simple, honey." Lily started to say but she started crying. Gibbs stepped in to comfort her, a move which confused his team a little bit but only served to heighten Billy's anxiety.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?!" Billy demanded, his blood pressure spiking.

"Kiddo." Harm started, he swallowed hard before he continued. "Darren Rokowski didn't...uh...didn't make it."

The expression on Billy's face sank immediately. The colour drained from his face. "No, no, I got the pressure on, I slowed the bleeding." Billy argued frantically.

"William." Ducky stepped in. "The sliced open his aorta. He lost too much blood too fast. You efforts were valiant but only a trauma surgeon could have saved him.

"No." Billy's lower lip quivered. "No!" He slammed his fists down on the bed.

"Can I have the room please." Kate stepped in.

"Kate, I'm not sure that's..." Gibbs countered but Kate shook her head.

"Gibbs, trust me." Kate replied simply. Gibbs held her eyes for a few seconds before nodding and guiding the others out of the room. She closed the door and sat on the edge of Billy's bed. "You did all you could." She counselled him.

"I got him killed, Kate!" Billy answered. "My best friend, and I got him killed."

"You didn't pull the trigger." Kate lifted his chin so he could look her in the eye. "Don't lose sight of that fact. The ultimate responsibility for what happened to him lies in the hands of the kid who did."

"You were right, we should have just left with everyone else from the library." Billy turned his head to avoid looking her in the eye.

"Listen to me, I profile for a living." Kate told him. "The reason school shooting are so dangerous is because there is no consistent profile. By doing what you did, you two probably saved lives. There's no telling how many kids, kids like Darren would have died if FBI agents had just stormed in there and opened fire."

"He was my friend, Kate." Billy was crying, his lip was quivering at a rate of about one per second. "I gave him the job that I thought would keep him safe and it killed him. How do I live with that?"

"You don't." Kate shook her head. "You'll eventually realize that his death wasn't your fault and until then. You've got a bunch of good people that will be here for you, okay? Gibbs, me, your mom, Ducky, Abby, Colonel MacKenzie, Captain Rabb, McGee, I think even Tony has a whole new respect for you." She gave him a quick hug and he winced and reached for his shoulder. "Sorry."

"Thanks, Kate." Billy sniffled and Kate headed for the door. When she stepped through, Lily, Mac, Harm and Gibbs stepped back inside. Lily went right back to hugging her son, Mac and Harm took seats at his bed side and Gibbs stood stoically next to the door.

Out in reception, Kate took a seat next to Ducky and hung her head. "Anything you want to talk about?" Tony came walking over and sat on her other side.

"Not now, Tony." She sniffled. "But thanks."

1718 ZULU, A WEEK LATER

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Admiral Gary Hanson was having some serious doubts about taking the stand today. The point it had seemed so necessary to make only two weeks earlier, no longer seemed worth the stress it had caused. He had a pre-trial conference with his counsel. But he didn't know that Harm had a surprise planned for him. When the door opened to the conference room, Billy Ross strode in with his arm in a sling under a sport jacket. "Admiral Hanson, an honour to meet you, sir." Billy reached forward and shook the Admiral's hand.

"And you, too, Mr. Ross." The Admiral replied. "I served with your grandfather in Vietnam." Wow, that comment made him feel old.

"I'll pass along your regards, sir." Billy nodded.

"Why are you here, son? If you don't mind my asking." The Admiral took his seat and offered Billy one. Harm stood watch inside the door to make sure they weren't interrupted.

"I was being nosy and I overheard Captain Rabb tell Captain Ramirez that you were having doubts about making the point you originally wanted to make on the stand today." Billy started.

"You were eavesdropping?" The Admiral questioned.

"I was." Billy nodded. "And I'm sorry for that and I'm sorry for sticking my nose in as I'm about to do. Admiral, have you ever heard the name Darren Rokowski?"

"I believe he was the boy who died when you were shot last week at school." The Admiral pondered.

"He was." Billy nodded and paused. "He was my best friend, Admiral. And like you, sir, he was gay. Now, you can't tell me that after all he showed last week. After all the courage and fortitude and bravery he showed, that his sexual orientation should have stopped him from serving as a United States Marine or even as a Navy SEAL. There are kids, boys my age like Darren all over this country. Kids with big hearts and with no shortage of character and you can't tell me that...that a just and fair society would preclude them from serving their country to the best of their ability because of what sex they chose to have sex with. With all due respect, sir, I'm here to tell you that if you can't take that stand today and tell the members just that, then you should hand your trident in to Admiral Chegwidden before you leave the building."

Harm did a double take on that one. He knew that phrase would hit home with the former SEAL. "Because, due respect, sir, this case no longer just has your face on it. For me, it's got Darren Rokowski's face on it, too. And if you can't get up there and defend a kid like that, a kid who gave the last full measure of devotion because his character compelled him to. If you can't defend his right to serve and serve proudly, then you're letting yourself, your rank and your SEALs down, sir." Billy took a breath before continuing. "I hope you'll excuse my tone, sir. But it's just the way I see it." Billy got out of the chair and came to attention. "Thank you, sir." The teenager turned on heel and headed out of the conference room.

A thick silence shrouded the people in that room for a few minutes as the Admiral sat at the table staring into his hands. "Kid's got a lot of brass." He eventually spoke. Harm nodded and folded his arms in front of his chest. "But knowing the General, he comes by it honestly." The Admiral got to his feet. "I suppose we've got a trial to win."

"Yes, sir. We do." Harm nodded and opened the door for the Admiral.


	27. American Skin

When he walked down the hallway at Bishop O'Connell, more than a week after the incident, for the first time since that fortuitous Friday, everything stopped. Everyone watched Billy, tie tied lazily, brand new blazer falling crisply over his arm still in a sling. As he stopped at his locker, the silence stopped, interrupted by the solitary figure of Football team Captain and starting Quarterback Ryan Johnson applauding the young man. He hadn't cried in a week since it happened but watching his Captain walk toward him applauding before the entire hallways broke out clapping, choked Billy up. Ryan reached forward and pulled Billy into a hug. "Good to have you back, Wild Bill." Ryan gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Cap'."Billy nodded.

"You realize with that bullet wound you're gonna get more tail than Hefner, right?" Ryan whispered and Billy cracked a wide smile. "You may not think you're ready yet, buddy, but you're the leader of this school now." Ryan reached behind his back and produced a new letter jacket. "Coach wanted to do this later himself, but I convinced him to let me pass the torch. It's on you next year."

Billy ran his fingers over the stitching on the new jacket. _Captain_ was written in blue on the white leather arms and _Wild Bill_ stitched in white over the wool torso of the jacket. Billy shook his head and tugged the new jacket on over his shoulders. "Alright Frankie, get the picture." Ryan told the linebacker who stepped out of the crowd and raised a small digital camera. The flash went off and Ryan gave Billy a pat on the back. "See you at the liturgy before, lunch." Billy nodded and turned back into his locker.

Clara Bailey was of average height for a seventeen year-old junior in high school. Somewhere around five-foot-five. She had long flowing black hair and dark eyes. Her dream was to attend Georgetown and be the first woman in her family to do that. Both her and Billy had been the focus of some nasty rumours since they'd started dating. For all things had changed in Virginia in the last forty years, some people still had a problem with an African-American girl dating a white boy. Even if he was the aptly named "superstar".

"How've you been?" Clara inquired. "I called, your mom said you weren't home.

"Was doing light rehab on the shoulder." Billy stared into the locker.

"What were you..." Clara started but Billy cut her off.

"Helping build a boat." Billy slid some books out of his locker tucking them under his good arm.

"You don't seem very talkative." She put a hand on his back and he pressed his forehead against the door of his locker.

"I watched my best friend die, in front of my eyes because he followed me into a situation I had no right diving into." Billy coldly explained. "I scared the hell out of my mom, my grandparents and a lot of people who care about me. Not to mention the fact that moving my left arm is a continual experience in pain." Billy stepped back and slammed the locker door shut. "So, you'll excuse me, if answering the phone wasn't near the top of my priorities list." He paused and shook his head. Maybe he should be nicer. "You came and saw me in the hospital, that was nice."

"I get the feeling your mother doesn't like me very much." Clara changed topics.

"I get the feeling my mother doesn't like ME very much." Billy joked. "So you're in good company."

"Your mother loves you." Clara countered as they walked through the school.

"She just can't bring herself to look me in the eye some days." Billy grumbled as he shook his head. "Listen, I've got biology, English and French this morning, I'll talk to you at lunch, okay?" He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Just as he was about to turn away, she grabbed him by the tie and pulled him back in. Roping her arms around his neck, she grabbed the short hair at the back of his head and kissed him hard on the lips. She'd caught him legitimately by surprise, the teenager so used to being in control of situations, each movement deliberate and calculated to project confidence and power. By the time his hands finally made their way to her hips, she was just about done with him.

"I'll see you after lunch." She smiled sweetly at him before playfully pushing him toward the biology lab, even smacking him on the butt as he walked past. Billy strode into the lab with his new jacket hanging loosely about his shoulders.

"O'Reilly, up top." Billy hung his fist over the smaller, skinny child who had been hunched over his laptop. The teenager recoiled as though he was about to be assaulted. "I'm not gonna hit you, O'Reilly, it's called a fist tap."

"Oh, oh yeah I knew that." The nasal voice replied. He tapped his fist against Billy's and the football player slid on to a stool next to him.

"What are you up to?" Billy looked at the laptop screen.

"MMORPG." O'Reilly answered.

"Like Elves and Dwarves and that kind of thing?" Billy hunched over the counter.

"Well, it's more complicated than that." O'Reilly protested.

"Get a lot more complicated if Mr. Renzi catches you playing a video game in class." Billy nodded over his right shoulder to where the teacher just entered the room. "Any chance I can check email?" O'Reilly turned the laptop toward Billy who punched up his email account, deleted the spam mail and opened the unread mail that he wanted to read. He opened an email from a sender that he didn't recognize. Billy read the email a few times before saving it to his drafts and then sliding the laptop back to O'Reilly.

In the last week, Billy had found himself on the cover of the Washington Post, the New York Times, Time Magazine, not mention as the lead story on Dateline and the CBS Nightly News. He had received fan mail, condolences, really a whole variety of communications from people wishing him well. But just now, Billy Ross had received his first death threat. He swallowed hard and started planning his after school trip to the Washington Navy Yard.

1519 ZULU

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Lieutenant Commander Mario Fanelli was permitted into the E-Ring after they had communicated to Captain Rabb that he was arriving. He was due to ship out in two weeks and due to get married in one. It hadn't exactly gone over very well with the bride to be, Lieutenant Commander Claudia D'Amigo, hadn't exactly warmed up to the idea but agreed that the mission was necessary to the wedding. She had been fond of her fiancé's former CAG who had allowed them to be together on the cruise so long as they used their discretion. She too had wondered why he hadn't responded to the wedding invitation that they had sent out months earlier.

Commander Fanelli was due to be deployed out of San Diego again, on the Nimitz again but this time as a Squadron XO. He stood outside his old CO's office and collected himself before tapping on the door to his office. "Hey, CAG."

"Priest!" Harm bounded out of his chair. "At ease, Commander." Harm extended his arm. "Been too long."

"Almost six months, sir." Priest smiled as he shook Harm's hand. "Spent most of that time planning a wedding over the phone."

"Over the phone?" Harm questioned as he offered his friend a seat.

"I'm in San Diego, she's in New York." Priest explained. "Her last tour ended her commitment to the service for putting her through medical school. She got a job at Columbia Presbyterian. Both our families are in New York, I've been flying in when I get a chance and I figured I'd fly into Dulles today and check in with you to see why you didn't respond to the invitation we sent?"

"Invitation? What invitation?" Harm raised an eyebrow.

"They were the first thing we got out, sir." Priest explained. "Not long after we got back home from the cruise."

"Ohhh." Harm nodded. "My apartment was being sublet while I was out of town so, I was staying with an old CO. My mail was supposed to be forwarded, but you know the postal service."

"Like you used to say, sir, dogwalkers that washed out of the Air Force." Priest joked and the two of them shared a laugh. "Well, it's this coming Saturday, which I realize is short notice but I would like you to be an usher, sir, if you could make time."

"I'd love to." Harm smiled. "Just let me make sure I can get a hotel room first." Harm leaned back in his chair. "The future Mrs. Fanelli was okay with this?"

"She insisted, sir." Priest grinned. "Told her mother that if you hadn't used that 'see no evil' policy when we were on the cruise, we might never have stayed together."

"Well, tell her that's very kind." Harm couldn't help but laugh.

"And sir, please feel free to come plus one, if you want to bring someone." Priest informed him. "Though, I've seen some of Claudia's cousins and the the dress whites might do you some real good if you come stag."

"Might be countered by the gray hair coming in around my temples." Harm joked.

"Just remember, sir, you're a Captain. The Navy actually pays you something that civilians would recognize as being salary." Priest joked as he got to his feet. "Sorry, I can't hang around longer, sir, but I've got to haul ass to National, hop the shuttle to LaGuardia and join the soon-to-be in-laws or Claudia will have my head."

"Remember what the Skipper said, Priest." Harm's eyes returned to the paper in the middle of his desk.

"I know, sir. No such thing as bad head, some's just better than others." Priest joked again with a smile.

"Wasn't talking about that, Priest but it'll do." Harm laughed and waved at his friend. "Dismissed, Commander. See you Saturday or will it be Friday night for the rehearsal dinner?"

"Friday night would be great if you could swing it, sir." Commander Fanelli was in the middle of closing the door behind him. "I'll have Claudia send you the information via email, sir."

"Demon gonna be the best man?" Harm inquired as a last question.

"He's been with me since Pensacola, sir, can't think of anyone better." Priest answered. "Talk to you later, sir."

"That you will, Commander. And I say this again, Dismissed." Harm grinned and this time the door closed. Harm finished writing a Status of Forces legal brief and sent it off to the JCS Chairman via email. Kicking back in his chair, Harm thought of it. A weekend in New York, seemed like it could be fun, especially in spring. The Rangers were still in the playoff, the Yankees and Red Sox would be playing at Yankee Stadium. There were Broadway shows, world class restaurants and hotels, Harm knew what had to be done next though. He picked up the phone on his desk and called Frank.

"Frank Burnett's office." The other end of the phone answered.

"Yes, tell Frank this is his stepson." Harm spoke into the phone. There was a few seconds of waiting music before Frank picked up the other end of the line.

"Harm, good to hear from you." Frank cheered. "How's life at the Pentagon?"

"Slower paced." Harm answered.

"Do I have you tell you how glad your mother is that you're not back in the fleet?" Frank questioned. "Now, what can I do for you? You never call me at work."

"I've got to attend a friend's wedding in New York this weekend and I just found out on short notice. I was wondering if..." Harm continued but Frank cut him off.

"Hotel, a few good restaurant reservations and tickets to a show?" Frank questioned.

"You know me too well." Harm shook his head. "How did you know."

"What I'd do if I was your age and single." Frank laughed. "I'll talk to my contacts and see what I can do, but it shouldn't be that much of a problem."

"Thanks, Frank." Harm fiddled idly with a pen on his desk.

"Should these be done for one person or two?" Frank inquired, trying to keep the meddling tone to a minimum.

"Can I give you the answer without expecting a call from mom in a few minutes where she squeals at a pitch that could pose a serious threat to my eardrums?" Harm joked.

"Two it is." Frank laughed. "I'll see what I can get done today and I'll send you an email with the confirmation numbers for the reservations tonight. I'll be as discrete as possible, but your mother has her methods."

"She's a sneaky one." Harm laughed. "Talk to you later, Frank." Harm set the phone back back in its cradle and stared down at it for a few seconds. Should he call her? Was it too soon? It wasn't like this kind of thing had to be romantic. Though the nature of the occasion and the scenery, a trip to New York City in spring time, was unlikely to help convey that idea. He picked up the phone and stared at it for a few seconds before deciding to dial. The milliseconds in between dial tones seemed like an eternity before Mac picked up the phone. "Hey Mac, it's Harm..."

2144 ZULU

NCIS HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

Billy Ross knew after reading that email that he was going to make a trip down to NCIS Headquarters today instead of walking home. If there was one person in law enforcement that he could trust, it was Gibbs and of course his team. He'd made one mistake though, when he'd run into Clara at lunch, he told her what happened and she insisted on coming with him. They'd fought the whole way over in the cab. He wanted to protect her, didn't want her within a million miles of him until he found out from Gibbs whether the threat was serious or not. But when the cab pulled into the Navy Yard, she was right next to him in the backseat. When they got on the elevator, she was standing next to him and when they got off the elevator, she was still right next to him.

"You've got to call first, Billy." Gibbs greeted him as the two kids walked into the squad room.

"This is an emergency, Gibbs." Billy stated simply. "McGee, can you pull up Hotmail for me? On the big screen?"

"Uh, sure." With a few clicks of his fingers, the email log-in screen was up. Billy walked over to Tim's desk and typed in his username and password. When his in-box came up, he clicked on the email that had worried him all day, and it popped up on screen. The members of the team took a second to read it and Gibbs' expression betrayed an immediate understanding.

"Billy, take your friend downstairs, go visit Ducky. We'll see what we can do." Gibbs directed and Billy nodded. Just like Thanksgiving, he still had to sit at the kids' table some times. He and Clara headed for the elevator and took it downstairs to autopsy. "McGee, run a trace on the email. Kate, read this again, I need a profile on whether this guy should be taken seriously."

A few seconds of silence followed those orders, Kate was eventually the first to speak. "Gibbs, there are some phrases in here that are particularly concerning, but there's no indication that the suspect has any proximity to the target or presents an immediate threat."

"Actually, Kate, there is." McGee piped up. "Boss, I traced the email to the Wi-Fi node at Bethesda."

"That's not that far from Arlington." Tony commented.

"You think so, DiNozzo?" Gibbs sarcastically replied.

"Boss, another email incoming, same IP Address." McGee shouted and pulled the incoming email up on the screen. Tim read it aloud. "_Not responding to me, huh? I don't take rejection well. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to your girlfriend. Such a pretty little thing. I thought tough guys like you preferred to face a challenge, but perhaps you're just another coward inside...Not real Marine material, just like your father...Yes, your real father."_

Gibbs felt the blood in his veins boil.

"Boss, there's more." McGee clicked on a light blue piece of text and opened an attachment. Up on the screen, there opened three windows showing pictures of Billy and Clara getting into the cab just outside their school.

"Kate, DiNozzo." Gibbs didn't even look over his shoulder. "Until we catch this bastard, the two of you are on protection detail. Kate, you've got Billy. DiNozzo, you're on the girl."

"Why give Kate to Billy, boss?" Tony questioned.

"Because at this point, he seems like the main target and she used to guard the President, DiNozzo." Gibbs answered as he took his two seniors agents toward the elevator. "McGee! See if you can narrow down that trace any more!"

"Will do, boss." McGee shouted back.

Meanwhile, downstairs in autopsy. Ducky was filling out autopsy reports at his desk as Jimmy cataloged surgical supplies for inventory. "Afternoon, Duck." Billy greeted

"Ah, young William, a pleasure as always." Ducky got out of his chair and walked over to shake Billy's hand. "How's your shoulder?"

"Still a little stiff." Billy raised a hand to his shoulder.

"Yes, well that's normal." Ducky nodded. "And who's this charming young woman?"

"Dr. Donald Mallard, may I introduce Clara Bailey." Billy stepped aside so the two could shake hands.

"Clara, a pleasure." Ducky kissed her hand.

"Nice to meet you as well, Dr. Mallard." Clara answered shyly.

"It's Ducky." Ducky smiled at her. "Well, except to this one and Jethro." Ducky indicated Billy.

"Duck is teaching me charm." Billy explained to Clara.

"And what's Jethro teaching you?" Ducky asked curiously.

"How to kill with a stare." Billy answered with a laugh. "A few more years and Ducky will be able to teach me how to properly order whiskey."

"Did you know, young William, that Laphroaig single malt scotch whiskey is actually aged in used bourbon barrels given to the distillery by American distributor Jim Beam?" Ducky guided them over toward his desk.

"Really, Dr. Mallard?" Clara asked with surprise.

"Oh yes, my dear. Because bourbon distillers only use their barrels once, many have decided to simply recycle their barrels by selling them to scotch distillers in order to prevent wasting expensive barrels." Ducky began applying pen to paper again on his reports.

"But why are bourbon distillers only allowed to use their barrels once?" Clara continued.

"Because in order for it to be called bourbon, it has to be aged in a new barrel each time." Gibbs walked into autopsy with Kate and Tony in tow.

"Of course you would know that, Jethro." Ducky cheerfully countered.

"I didn't catch your name upstairs, I'm Special Agent Gibbs, these are Special Agents Todd and DiNozzo" Gibbs looked at Clara.

"Clara Bailey, sir." She wearily answered.

"Clara, I'm gonna need your family's home phone number." Gibbs started. "The email that just came in, included you in the threat and I've assigned you a protective detail. In addition to which, you're gonna have to spend time at an NCIS safe house and I need to tell your parents."

Clara looked instantly terrified. "Duck, can I have a pen and a piece of paper?" Billy asked and Ducky handed him the articles. Billy jotted down the digits. "Here ya go, Gibbs." Billy handed him the paper.

"I need you two to take your protection seriously." Gibbs put the piece of paper in his pocket. "That means no trying to sneak away from my agents for any reason. You need to go to school, you tell them. You need to go to the library, you tell them. You need to go to the head, you tell them." Gibbs stared the two teenagers in the eye.

"The head?" Clara whispered to Billy.

"The bathroom." He whispered back.

"Billy, Kate's your agent. Clara, you've got Agent DiNozzo." Gibbs finished. "Any questions?"

"Can I call my mom?" Billy raised his hand.

"I already did." Gibbs replied. "We've got a live communications link with our safe house in Fairfax, so the two of you will stay there."

"Agent Gibbs." Clara tentatively raised her hand. "Sir, I don't have a change of clothes. Actually, I don't think either of us..."

"I keep a sea bag in my locker." Billy commented.

"Okay, well I don't. How am I going to change tomorrow morning?" Clara asked, her voice still soprano and restrained.

"Don't you guys wear uniforms to school?" Tony questioned.

"Pyjamas and panties, Tony." Kate glared over her shoulder. "I'll see what NCIS logo stuff I can grab from downstairs for use as pyjamas but otherwise..." Kate shook her head.

"After you drop them off at the safe house." Gibbs directed Kate. "Run over to a Target or a Wal Mart or something, grab a few pairs and bill NCIS. I think even you an trust Tony alone with the kids for ten minutes."

"Only because they're teenagers." Kate commented.

"Now that we've got that sorted out." Gibbs turned back to the kids. "DiNozzo, you'll take Clara first. Kate, you'll wait twenty minutes and take Billy."

"You're sure you want Tony around a seventeen year-old girl in a Catholic school girl uniform, Gibbs?" Kate felt the need to get a parting shot in.

"DiNozzo, don't make me hurt you." Billy called after Tony who walked out of autopsy with Clara next to him. "Sorry to be a bother, Gunny." Billy looked to Gibbs with the same kind of self-deprecating expression that Gibbs would have expected from the boy's father.

"Not your fault, you didn't send the email." Gibbs walked over and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Palmer, go visit Abby in the lab." Gibbs instructed and Jimmy scampered out the door. "You did the right thing by coming here. But there's one thing kid, the new email mentioned knowing who your real father was. Did you tell anyone?"

"No." Billy shook his head.

"You're not in trouble." Kate stepped in. "But we need to know so we can solve the case."

"I didn't tell anyone." Billy protested.

"Who all knows?" Gibbs folded his arms in front of his chest.

"My mom, me, my grandparents, my Aunt Bev and Uncle AJ, my stepmom Mac, Captain Rabb, my Aunt Anna and the guy who I thought was my dad until last December." Billy answered. Gibbs shook his head. The General had never exactly been the best at following Rule 4.

"That only leads us with about a half dozen leads, Gibbs." Kate rolled her eyes. "Secrets this big normally don't last long before becoming common knowledge in Washington."

"What about the boy's real father, Jethro? Surely he would have some knowledge." Ducky guessed aloud.

"Maybe, maybe not, Duck." Gibbs answered.

"Well, where can we find him, Billy?" Kate looked at her new protectee.

"Arlington National Cemetery." Billy answered. Kate was stricken for a second before realization dawned on her and she figured out who they were talking about.

2321 ZULU

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm found the commute from the Pentagon to his apartment only slightly faster than it had been coming home from JAG. After talking to Mac this morning, Harm had been running on a bit of a high all day. He kind of bounced around his apartment, preparing pasta for tonight. "I tell you to advance the ball a few yards at a time and your answer to that is to throw a Hail Mary pass in the first quarter?" Nate was sitting down at the island in Harm's kitchen.

"Nice to see you, too." Harm drained the water from the noodles.

"Seriously? A trip to New York City?" Nate was ready to bound on to the Navy Captain.

"It's nothing, we've got separate rooms at the Hotel. Mac gets to choose between a Broadway show and the ball game at Yankees stadium. The only really romantic thing we're doing this weekend is the wedding." Harm explained.

"You've still got the ball up in the air on this one." Nate countered. "Way too down field way too fast. And Mac will pick the ball game."

"I think she'll pick the Broadway show." Harm eyed his angelic visitor suspiciously.

"Harm, you know the woman you were friends with. I dated her for a year." Nate rubbed his forehead. "She'll pick the ballgame, and when she does, realize that it's for your sake and for hers. She's not ready just yet and getting dressed up and going to a Broadway show is gonna send all her rebound censors into overdrive. You don't want that."

"Okay, true." Harm admitted as he reached into the fridge and produced a couple bottles of mineral water. "How was the Hendrix concert a few weeks back?"

"Hendrix has still got it. Didn't expect him to call Jim Morrison up for the encore. Then when he called up Keith Moon to sit in on drums..." Nate just shook his head.

"I get it, I get it. The music's better up there." Harm laughed. "I'm surprised Elvis didn't cameo."

"Elvis isn't dead." Nate deadpanned, trying to see if Harm would react.

"Really?" Harm stopped cooking for a second. "So, the whole National Enquirer...."

"Gotcha!" Nate jousted and Harm rolled his eyes.

"You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, you know that?" Harm went back to making dinner. "Why were you nowhere to be found last week when your son was fighting his way through a school shooting? We could have used your inside sources then."

"Because I was watching over my son while he was fighting his way through a school shooting, maybe?" Nate shot back. "That kid keeps me on my toes, even more than you. Can you imagine what it's like for me to try and keep the two of you out of trouble?"

"If I recall, you told me that you spent two summers during high school in the West Bank with your Mossad agent godfather." Harm shot back again.

"Not just my godfather, my mother's little brother." Nate reminded him. "And that was a different time. My dad was deployed pretty much from the time I was born until I was seventeen years old. I was angry at the world. My Uncle Moshe was the only mentor in my life who let me have any fun. My father was deployed, he was never home and because he was never home, every time he tried to be the authoritarian, me and him got in the worst fights. My grandfather was the authoritarian."

"The kid does seem to be having a rough time lately. Losing you, losing his best friends, the hunting trip." Harm took a sip of water.

"The men in my family aren't open up and talk about your pain types. They're more along the lines of repress your pain, join the Marines and focus your anger on defending your country types." Nate explained. "You show pain, you show weakness. My grandfather told me that doing anything else was better than that."

"What did you do when your brother died?" Harm tested this subject gently.

"I drank...a lot." Nate gulped. "I went on leave and went to Mexico for two weeks. I just didn't want to feel anything, I just drank a lot of beer and screwed around and had a siesta everyday. No phones, no television, just a radio. It was on the advice of an old Gunny of mine."

"What happened?" Harm leaned on the island.

"Peach came down to Baja and got me. Pulled me out of a hammock with a cerveza tucked between my legs. " Nate laughed . "She whacked me in the pills with the full bottle of beer and I fell out of the hammock on to the beach."

"You're saying that things could get worse for the kid?" Harm asked.

"Depends on how he deals with it." Nate answered. "If he's gotta deal with it, then it won't get any worse. But I don't know who's going to do that. I know Gibbs has it in him. But you're headed to New York."

A knock came at the door. "Remember, move the ball slowly." Nate coached. Harm walked over to the door and grabbed the door knob. When he looked back toward the kitchen, he saw that his companion had disappeared. Harm opened the door and stepped back.

"Hey, Mac." Harm leaned on the door. "What's with the hair?"

"It's...raining outside." Mac explained with an amused smile. "So, New York City, huh?"

"You didn't want me to go alone, did you?" Harm shot her a flyboy grin.

"I don't know, Harm." Mac tossed her coat on to the coat rack. It revealed that she was wearing the same sweater that she'd worn the night that she came over and he was going out to confront Commander Hobarth. "I want to go."

"What's the problem?" Harm asked.

"Why do you want me to go, Harm?" Mac wouldn't look him in the eye. She fidgeted lightly with her fingers as she moved toward the kitchen.

"You're my friend, Mac. At least you were. I have fun with you. It's been just about forever since we went somewhere and one or both of us wasn't on assignment." Harm reasoned. "Besides, it's New York in spring."

"Good point." Mac smiled as she took the bottle of water from Harm. "Harm if that's not the only reason...." Mac stared down into the bottle. "It's just a little early."

"I know, Mac." Harm took out the plates and began distributing dinner.

"But New York should be fun. The wedding, great restaurants..." Mac pondered aloud.

"Five star hotel." Harm added and Mac looked suitably impressed.

"Maybe cap the whole weekend off with a baseball game. I hear the Yankees and Red Sox are playing this weekend." Mac happily took the plate of penne from Harm.

"Yeah." Harm shook his head and couldn't help but smile. "The ballgame."

0209 ZULU

NCIS SAFE HOUSE

FAIRFAX, VIRGINIA

"There isn't a whole lot that's modern in this house, is there, Tony?" Billy strode down the stairs in the safe house. "The exercise equipment in the basement is a nice touch."

"Agents need to stay in shape." DiNozzo countered.

"Give it up, DiNozzo, the last time you were inside a gym regularly Ohio State was getting their ass kicked by Notre Dame on a regular basis." Billy tossed his shirt off and jumped on to the chin-up bar. He started doing a set of hanging chin-ups. "Then again, Kate's pretty tight."

"If you like your eyes where they are, I wouldn't mention that you've looked or make it obvious." Tony grunted as he started running on the treadmill. "And I get into the gym pretty regularly."

"Uh huh." Billy laughed as he counted off his last chin-up. "Gibbs said you were a two sport athlete."

"I was, basketball and football." Tony upped his miles per hour on the treadmill as the teenager sat on the rowing machine. "I was a point guard on a couple Final Four teams. When was the last time Navy won a National Title?" Tony's competitive side was coming through.

"A long damn time ago." Billy grunted as he pushed through the last set of reps on the rowing machine. "So, why are you rooming with me tonight?"

"Clara's dad figured, and Gibbs agreed that there really was no need for us to adopt cross gender sleeping quarters. In the dark, with plenty of warning, I'm probably as capable on protection detail as Kate is." Tony stepped off the treadmill and used a towel to dry some of his sweat.

"In the dark, with plenty of notice, I'm willing to bet I'm probably a better shot." Billy laughed as he laid down on the bench under the weights.

"Than an NCIS agent who used to be a Baltimore cop?" DiNozzo stood over him to spot him. "Teenage bravado is one thing, kid, but if you think that then you've got an ego bigger than even Kate thinks you do."

"She thinks I've got a big ego?" Billy groaned as he pushed the bar back up.

"She thinks it's charming in a kind of Disney hero against the world, Mighty Ducks kind of way according to Abby." DiNozzo brushed it off. "You've got a girlfriend who seems to care a lot about you, I mean most girls don't risk going into protective custody for just any guy."

"I'm a status symbol." Billy shot back. "The living breathing equivalent of the latest Louis Vuitton bag or Prada shoe for High School girls. Next Captain of the football team, school shooting hero, and now I need federal agents to protect me because some idiot is stalking me. Makes for a great story to tell her girlfriends."

"You can't honestly think that." Tony laughed.

"I've had three girlfriends so far this year. I know what it is in High School." Billy sat up on the bench. "It's not like I don't get anything out of it." Giving Tony his own sly Big Bad Wolf expression.

"Yeah, I remember what high school was like." Tony sat down next to him. "Believe it or not, I was a lot like you."

"Really?" Billy ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair. "I wouldn't have just pegged us as the same character in the same movie. I actually think we're different characters from different movies."

"Who am I?" DiNozzo inquired, encouraged that he might have been rubbing off on the young man.

"Steve McQueen in The Great Escape. Hilts, the Cooler King, the wild card. Big X, Cavendish, MacDonald, Ashley-Pitt none of them know quite what to do with Hilts." Billy explained. "I'm also willing to bet you spend more time in Gibbs' doghouse than Hilts spent in the cooler."

"And who are you?" Tony looked over his left shoulder where he saw the teenager rubbing his own left shoulder. "Shoulder giving you problems?"

"Ducky examined it when I was down in autopsy today. Said I don't need the sling any more." Billy stopped rubbing his shoulder. "But he also told me to take it easy."

"Naturally, you took that to mean that you should do chin ups and go full tilt on the rowing machine." Tony joked sarcastically. "Don't think our characters are all that different. You're Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men."

"Don't tell Mac that, she'll think I actually want to work at JAG." Billy joked. "Not sure who that makes Gibbs."

"Don't even try that one." Tony waved the kid off as he headed over to the bike. "I've been there." Billy laughed and walked over to the stairs to ascend into the hallway on the main level.

"Y'ever noticed that Ducky kind of looks like Ashley-Pitt from The Great Escape?" Billy turned back toward DiNozzo when he was halfway up the stairs.

"Great movie." DiNozzo smiled and Billy climbed further up the stairs in time to see Kate coming down wearing a pink tank top and gray sweat pants. He tuned around to admire the view as she walked past him. He jogged up the stairs and into the bedroom where he cast off his clothes and grabbed a towel and some toiletries to head to the shower. The towel tied around his waist, he opened the door and was hit in the face by a wall of steam.

There was a slight squeal from Clara when she saw Billy standing there in the bathroom with the towel around his waist. "Sorry." He stammered. "Guess I didn't hear the shower."

"Yeah, guess not..." She laughed nervously, her heart racing from the surprise but it was also the proximity. She moved toward him, tentatively, but not like she was trying to get around him to the door. Just like she was trying to approach him. That might as well have been the flint hitting steel to light the fire in his eyes. He put his hands on her hips and spun the two of them around so that her back was up against the door, slamming it shut. Their lips met in an intense fury. She wasn't sure what to do next. The seventeen year-old cheerleader wasn't exactly new at this kind of thing, not that she was a seasoned veteran either. Probably typical for a high schooler. She knew what the guys on the football team were too, and how they often took advantage of their social status. She reached for where the towel tucked in just under his belly-button and looked up into his eyes.

Just then there was a loud bang on the door. "You two open up!" Billy heard Tony yell, causing the teenager to roll his eyes. He opened the door and found Kate and Tony standing there with their Sigs drawn.

"Teenagerus Interruptus, thanks DiNozzo." Billy shot caustically as steam poured out of the bathroom and he and Clara stood there still wrapped in towels.

"We heard a squeal and bang." Kate explained.

"The squeal was, um, me, Agent Todd." Clara's delicate mezzo soprano explained. "He didn't know I was still in the bathroom and surprised me by walking in."

"And the crash?" DiNozzo pressed.

"Was me backing her up against the door, DiNozzo." Billy strode into the hallway and smacked Tony on the back of the head before storming off into the bedroom.

Tony turned to face Kate. "See, the Gibbs-awan."

1637 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac sat in her office, unable to maintain her focus. She'd been able to corral just enough focus to tee off on Sturgis in court but getting back to her office had shifted her brain down into a kind of idle neutral. She would intermittently look out the window into the JAG parking lot, then stare down at the photo in the corner of her desk. It was her and Nate at the DNC fundraiser the previous summer. She loved that photo. He had looked so smart in his tuxedo, even if he didn't exactly look comfortable in it. She was in that blue dress that she'd bought just for the occasion.

"Still think about him, ma'am?" Harriet chanced as she stood in the doorway to Mac's office.

"A few weeks ago, I went a whole day without thinking about him. I got in bed that night and realized that it had been a whole day." Mac forced a smile to her face. "I cried for five minutes."

"Oh, ma'am." Harriet stepped into the office and closed the door behind her.

"When it happened. I was talking to one of his friends at the wake and he said it would happen. I felt so bad when it did though." Mac continued to explain. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with the pictures, whether I'm supposed to put them away or if I can just leave them out. If I leave them sitting out and I look at them..."

"You'll just keep reliving it." Harriet sat opposite Mac. "I don't know what to tell you, ma'am."

"On the one hand, I want to move past it. I want to be able to get on with my life but at the same time, I don't want to forget." Mac set the frame back down on the corner of her desk.

"Ma'am, it's only been five months." Harriet empathized. "If it was just a break up, I think you could be expected to be over it by now. But you were in a loving, long term relationship with someone who was about to ask you to marry him. That it ended the way it did, as quickly as it did. I guess what I'm saying, is that if it takes a little longer for you to feel comfortable again socially, it's not a bad thing."

"I know that." Mac finally looked up from the picture. "I just get so frustrated with myself some days lately. It feels like I'm just spinning my wheels. There's no progress, no movement at all, I'm just stuck."

"Maybe you should go somewhere, ma'am, have a little fun?" Harriet suggested. "I mean, just getting out of Washington might give you the chance to clear your head. It would be understandable, especially in this city that you would see him everywhere. I mean, heck Colonel, you've got to drive past George Washington University just to get home every night."

Mac thought for a second about whether she should mention it to Harriet about heading off to New York City this coming weekend. Would she think less of her for being a little excited about doing just as Harriet had suggested and getting out of Washington for a few days? "I, uh, think I've got something like that in the works actually." Mac avoided Harriet's eyes.

"Oh?" The blonde replied simply.

"Yeah, well Captain Rabb called me yesterday and asked if I would mind heading up to New York with him this weekend to attend the wedding of a couple officers from his cruise on the Nimitz. I kind of agreed to go." Mac hesitantly filled in her friend.

"Oh." Harriet stated again mono-syllabically.

"What, oh?" Mac questioned.

"It's just that, well permission to speak freely, ma'am?" Harriet nervously played with her fingers.

"What have you been doing up till now, Harriet?" Mac responded with a laugh.

"It's just that you and the Captain have something of a history, ma'am..." Harriet treaded very gently.

"You have a gift for understatement." Mac commented quickly.

"And while I think New York sounds wonderful, adding that element to the weekend seems like attempting a Shirley Temple impression while standing in a minefield." Harriet continued and then quickly worried she had overstepped her bounds. "Respectfully, of course, ma'am."

"So, your advice would be?" Mac tried to soothe Harriet's concern.

"Tread very, very softly, Colonel." Harriet counseled. "The Captain's a good guy, a really good guy and probably Bud's best friend but weekends like these have a tendency to put starlit notions of romance in people's heads and you're still rebounding."

"Thanks, Harriet." Mac smiled fondly.

2041 ZULU

BISHOP DENIS J. O'CONNELL HIGH SCHOOL

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"I told you we've got to go to that photography studio in Georgetown, right?" Billy asked Kate as they strode the halls of the school on their way out to the parking lot.

"No." Kate shook her head. "And any unanticipated locations really do have to be cleared ahead of time. Why are going to a photo shoot."

"Last year, GQ decided that they were going to do a _Profiles in Courage _monthly story in honour of the fortieth Anniversary of President Kennedy's death." Billy started to explain. He knew he had to whisper the next part. "They wrote about dad for the January issue. After what happened here ten days ago, they called last week and said they wanted to make me the May cover. I figured it could be fun, so they told me to schedule an appointment with a freelance photographer they use in Georgetown."

"You're kidding." Kate deadpanned.

"No, but I'm pretty psyched about it." Billy smiled. The two of them walked out the front doors of the school where Tony and Clara were waiting for them.

"He has to go to a photography studio." Kate looked to Tony. "Which means you have to come with us to help me sweep the place and check the personnel before I let him come into contact with them."

"Will there be models?" Tony looked to Billy who just laughed.

"No idea, maybe." The teenager answered with a grin.

"Alright, let's go." DiNozzo opened the car door, sliding Clara into the shotgun seat next to him with Kate and Billy in the back. "You know how to get to this place?"

"Why I love MapQuest." Billy answered with a smug smile.

The car sped out of the parking lot and through Arlington toward the bridge into DC. "Any news on the case?" Billy asked over the front seat.

"Gibbs and McGee conducted interviews yesterday and the Probie did an electric trail on the email account that sent the message to you. They've got a suspect they're hunting down. Haven't heard anything from the boss in two hours or so." Tony answered.

"Here's the place." Billy indicated a storefront on the right hand side of the street. Tony stopped car, he and Kate got out and went around curbside. They covered the kids who got out of the car and they walked up a flight of curbside stairs into the second floor studio. Tony and Kate were the first two through the door and they took the two kids into a secured room before searching the rest of the studio and interviewing the staff. "I feel like Godot with this whole damn death threat thing."

"Stop doing that." Clara looked up at him from her chair.

"Doing what?" He spun on heel.

"You really want to do this now?" She got to her feet. "Let's start with the fact that you don't give me enough credit.

"Enough credit?" Billy folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Yeah. I came with you down to the Navy Yard yesterday not because I think of you as an accessory but because I actually give a crap." Clara got in his face. "But I heard you with DiNozzo in the gym downstairs yesterday. Could you have sounded any more pompous?"

"You think I'm full of myself?" Billy questioned.

"I think you paint a picture of yourself that is so grandiose, so built on a house of cards of false bravado that you think you can look down on everyone else our age." She theorized. "You're scared. You feel alone and you're scared and you don't want anyone to see it. So, to cover up the brush strokes on this Superman portrait you try to project of yourself, you try and be everybody's hero and pretend like none of it really matters to you. You get to be the hero and play the anti-hero." She laughed.

"You think you know me?" Billy challenged.

"I think you don't want anyone to see that ever since your uncle died you've been a scared little boy and to compensate, you've been trying to act all macho and shit." She retorted. "And I know we're done."

"Done?" Billy's expression dropped.

"Yeah, you're just not mature enough." She explained. "I don't see this working."

"We're clear out here." Tony stuck his head in the secure green room.

"See you at school?" Clara asked as she moved toward the door.

"Yeah." Billy looked stunned.

"Agent DiNozzo, I've got homework to do, can you take me back to the safe house?" Clara asked as she walked through the door. Billy stood there for a second, his hands in his pockets staring down at the floor, not wanting to admit that she was right.

"The photographer wanted me to bring this to you." Kate stepped into the green room and handed Billy and exquisitely tailored suit.

"Oh, uh, thanks Kate." Billy looked up and took the hanger from her. "Didn't you get in his face about not being his assistant?"

"Yeah, but I also figured that a teenager getting an emailed death threat was entitled to a little slack." Kate smiled at him. Billy tossed off the blazer, dress shirt and tie from his school uniform. He slid his uniform pants to the floor next. "Okay, you're getting way too comfortable with having me around."

"You're here to stop me from getting killed, right?" Billy asked seriously. "Seems like that's more important than being bashful. Besides, I'm wearing underwear."

"Just stay away from the window." Kate was looking at the opposite wall. The teenager slid on the suit, loosely knotting the tie in a half Windsor before turning back toward the door.

"How do I look?" Billy asked Kate who looked that teenager.

"Nineteen." Kate answered honestly.

"If it's out of twenty, I'll take it." Billy joked nervously.

"Nineteen years old." Kate replied as the kid headed for the door. She closed it behind the two of them and she watched as the teenager was instantly mobbed by make-up artists and hairstylists trying to perfect his style and look. She watched him get finicky with the hairstylists and try to keep the make up artists at arm's length. When they were done, she watched the photographer attempt to position the kid in front of the green screen. It was plainly evident that the kid wasn't a model or an actor. He lacked anything resembling camera presence. The photographer had tried several different poses and camera angles to try and get something that he could use.

"I don't understand, Billy, what is your problem?" The Italian accent permeated the room. "You're a hero. You were courageous, magnetic, a feat worthy of a movie star, the whole world has heard about it. I need to feel courage, I need to feel danger from you but I need strength. Kind of James Bond meets Indiana Jones, can you do that?"

"Sure, whatever." Almost trance like, Billy shook his head an answered. He pushed his shoulders out and puffed that big chest out, but it caused Kate to laugh. All it did was made him look like an Emperor Penguin she thought. The thousand yard stare wasn't working for him and he was clearly trying the photographer's patience.

"I need machismo from you. That kind of raw, brazen attitude that Americans are so known for." The photographer counseled but he just wasn't seeing it. "Maybe get one of the models in there." He motioned for one of the tall, blonde models he'd been shooting earlier. Kate was sure this one had to work. The kid was a teenager after all and models were models, just hearing about this would make DiNozzo jealous and drive him nuts. The photographer spent a few minutes positioning body parts to try and make the scene look like something from a Bond movie poster, but once again, the kid just didn't seem into it. When the photographer took another break, Kate decided to walk over and give her protectee a pep talk.

"You can do this, it's not that tough." Kate coached.

"It feels like he's taken ten thousand pictures already." Billy protested. "He can't tell me they're all terrible." She noticed something in his focus shift when he was talking to her. Apparently, the photographer noticed it to.

"Agent Todd would you mind standing in on the next set?" The photographer asked.

"Me? Why?" Kate was genuinely puzzled.

"Call it ...a...uh gut feeling." The Italian motioned toward his stomach. "But take off your jacket, yes?" Kate tossed her jacket to a waiting assistant. With it off, she was wearing a sleeveless v-neck shirt. Her badge and the holster for her Sig were exposed at her belt. The photographer walked over and positioned the two of them. "Okay, I need you to lean on him a bit like this." He put Kate's right hand on Billy's shoulder and her other hand in the middle of his chest. "Okay, now, bend her back just a little bit." He placed Billy's hand in the small of her back as he directed the two of them. He settled the boy's other hand at Kate's left hip. "Oh yes, very nice, Agent Todd. It's very Anya Amasova from the Spy Who Loved Me." He stepped back with his camera and started shooting.

"If your hand gets any lower..." Kate warned. "I may be the first NCIS agent on a protective detail to kill her protectee, understood?" Billy just tossed her a mischievous smile and they heard some rapid flashed of the camera.

"There we are." The photographer encouraged. "Just a few more." He snapped off a few more shots and tossed his camera to his assistant. "We're finished."

"Done?" Billy enthused.

"Done." The photographer shook Billy's hand.

"What about the suit?" Billy tapped the lapels.

"I'll tell them it got lost in the shuffle." The photographer smiled and gave Billy a pat on his good shoulder. "Between us, that thing you did, it took how you say...guts."

"Between us, that thing I did." Billy paused. "Took a complete lack of brains." Billy smiled again and headed toward the green room to collect his school uniform.

"I heard that." Kate jogged to catch up with him. "You think what you did was brainless?"

Billy closed the door behind the two of them. "Clara and I broke up, before she left earlier."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Kate's expression fell.

"Before she left, she said that I was putting on a show. Trying to cover up my weaknesses by pretending to be so strong, so brave, so whatever." Billy explained as he sat down. "You think she's right, Kate?"

"I..." Kate was interrupted by her cell phone. "Agent Todd." There was a few seconds silence which was followed by Kate just nodding and affirming what she was being told. After a few minutes she closed her phone. "That was Gibbs. He and McGee caught the guy. The brother of one of the kids who took over the school last week. Wanted revenge."

"It can't be that simple." Billy protested.

"It just is some times." Kate answered. "It's better that way. He was a Petty Officer in administration at Bethesda."

Billy took a deep breath as he bent over and looked at the floor. "Glad that's over." He attempted to run his hands through his mousse filled hair. "Kate, do you think she was right?"

"I think you've been through a lot this year. Probably more than your fair share. I think you respond to that by trying to prove how much you aren't hurt." She put a comforting hand on his back. "Maybe that's how you've got to deal with it. But your girlfriend, whoever she is, is gonna want to feel like you're not putting on a front with her. Like you're being you."

Billy leaned forward and hugged his former protection agent. "Thanks, Kate."


	28. New York City Serenade

Sarah MacKenzie stood in the middle of National Airport waiting for the next Delta flight to JFK. Actually, she was waiting on Harmon Rabb as well, only he would be late for a rehearsal dinner that he'd vowed to try and attend. She didn't think she'd ever be completely at ease with going to New York this weekend. On the one hand, she was excited, she wanted to go. On the other hand, it made her feel easy, cheap, even tawdry. She'd appeased her inner guilt by packing the most unsexy things she could find in her apartment. Old torn track pants, long t-shirts, really anything that would give off an anti-flirt message. But then she arrived at the dress.

She had to wear one for the wedding. She could have worn her uniform, in retrospect that almost would have been preferable. With both options laid out on the bed in front of her while she packed, her mind continuously volleyed back and forth between the uniform and the dress. Even picking out what particular dress had proven a time consuming task. Black and red were disregarded immediately as being too sexy. Blue was disregarded because the only blue dress she owned was the one she wore in the now iconic photo she still had on the corner of her desk at work. So, she'd elected to pick a deep green one, floor length, with a modest but not prudish neckline.

Nervously, she eyed the clock in the departure lounge. Harm was cutting this one close. Not that she should expect anything else from a guy who kept golf clubs instead of a sea bag in the trunk of his car. She looked up toward the entrance to the lounge in time to see the familiar six-foot-four frame of her favourite Naval Captain bounding toward the security check with his bags held up out of the crowd over his head. Harm stepped into line at the security check. He went through without a hitch and soon joined Mac.

"You're late." She told him.

"I'm not late, just insufficiently early." Harm countered with his best flyboy grin.

"Harm, getting here four minutes before the plane is due to board is late." Mac corrected him as they headed toward the gate. "Why were you late anyway?"

"Traffic on the Beltway was murder." Harm answered, still catching his breath.

"And you didn't get up a half hour earlier because?" Mac questioned, enjoying that she got to bust his...chops, for once.

"I lack your keen Marine ability to see the future and didn't know traffic on the Beltway would be murder?" Harm laughed as they showed their boarding passes.

"And the reason that you didn't have me come and pick you up was?" Mac continued on her little mission.

"Because I'm an idiot and in the future will make sure I clear all future travel plans with you?" Harm joked with a smile. "You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"Oh, only a lot." Mac smiled back at him. "And just think, I've got a whole weekend in which to make these little comments."

"Oh, wonderful joy for me." Harm rolled his eyes. Harm watched as Mac finally looked down at her ticket.

"Wait a minute, we're sitting in first class?" Mac looked over her shoulder at Harm as they stepped on to the plane. "How did you?"

"I used the Frank Burnett Travel Agency." Harm answered with another genuine smile. "Always reliable and always classy."

"Apparently." Mac gave an astonished chuckle. "Think the pilot will let you fly?"

"Well, they let you do just about anything in first class." Harm put his bags into the overhead. "I've never had a good experienced with checked baggage on an airline."

"Me either." Mac grunted as she tried to push her baggage into the overhead. Harm took the baggage from her and shimmied the case into the overhead while just getting the door closed. Ever the gentleman, Mac thought as she took the window seat.

"Hey, who said you get the window?" Harm looked down at Mac as he stood in the aisle.

"I've always wanted to see New York from the window seat as we flew into JFK. And we'll be flying in at sunset. Come on, Harm, please?" Mac pleaded in her most sugar sweet of tones. Harm just shook his head.

"You realize that I'm six-foot-four and that the drink cart is gonna whack me elbow when it comes by, right?" Harm was wearing his most devilish smirk.

"You realize that if you just let me have my way it will earn you a lot of brownie points, right?" Mac shot back and she watched as Harm's mouth went agape for a second while he considered a response. Eventually he just ducked into the aisle seat next to Mac. "It's been more than a year, but I think I can program you again."

"Program me?" Harm looked a little shocked.

"We were partners for more than six years before you got shipped off to the Pentagon the first time, Harm. I had you pretty well trained." Mac explained, her eyes looking deep into his own. "You were almost housebroken."

"You're enjoying this a little too much." Harm laughed.

"Yeah, but see, then you went off. Became a man of international intrigue at the Pentagon, then a hot shot flight instructor at Top Gun, then a Navy Cross hero over Afghanistan." Mac just shook her head. "Back to being a wild horse."

"I got to go out and live the life that I thought I'd get to live when I went back out to the Henry. That I thought I'd missed out on when my night vision had been taken from me." Harm explained. "I got to feel the salt spray in my face. Have young pilots call me the CAG and lead my own Air Wing."

"And now?" Mac pressed a question.

"I'm glad to be back home." Harm answered, smiling at Mac yet again.

2407 ZULU

THE PIERRE HOTEL

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

"And who exactly did Frank have to kill to get us these rooms on such short notice?" Mac looked through her hotel room. Both she and Harm were on the City View side of the hall, six floors up.

"I've learned not to ask." Harm chuckled as he dropped his luggage on the bed in his room. "But we don't have time to exactly admire the view, Mac. We've got to haul ass down Fifth Avenue to Saint Patrick's Cathedral in order to make the rehearsal."

"See, this is what happens when I let you plan a vacation." Mac tossed her bag on her beg and met Harm in the doorway between the two rooms. "Late for the flight, cutting it close for the rehearsal."

"You really do enjoy this don't you?" Harm smiled as he stood face to face with Mac.

"It kind of takes me back to the glory days at JAG." Mac smiled at him as she ducked away and locked the door to her room before walking into Harm's room.

"The glory days for you being?" Harm questioned as the two of them moved through the door out of his room in to the hallway.

"Before you finished your apartment." Mac smiled. "I liked it when it was simple. Complication is my enemy lately, I guess."

"Yeah." Harm laughed nervously, looking around awaiting the presence of his frequent angelic companion. "I know what you mean." He successfully prevented the sigh from escaping his lips. He could vividly remember what Mac was talking about. Back when it seemed that there was so much new to say, so much that you were excited about but so much that you were afraid of. Back when every time he would touch her would send a spark through his system. When it didn't seem like so much had to be overcome. He was as much to blame as she was. He stifled a chuckle. In that way they were almost like a married couple, trying to rediscover the spark, wondering if their once mythical flame was dead.

As they climbed on to the elevator, Harm couldn't take his eyes off of her. All these years, all these flaws and strengths later, she remained Mac. Not mythical, not tragic, just her. He wondered if maybe his intentions all those years ago hadn't been the least bit condescending. If he wasn't trying to rescue her from her past and tell her that she was worthy of something. God, just thinking about it that way now made him role his eyes. He wondered what Mac would have done to him back then if she'd found that even so much as one of his feelings had that kind of emotional bearing.

The two of them walked as quickly as they could through the lobby and through the doors that took them on to Fifth Avenue. They had a decent jog awaiting them as they tackled the ten blocks between their hotel and Saint Patrick's Cathedral. Even for a couple of military officers, the traffic of a New York City sidewalk can prove a difficult slalom. The two of them dodged people, hot dog vendors, rickshaw drivers and even the occasional taxi cab on their way from their hotel to the Cathedral.

"This isn't a bad jog!" Mac called from a pace and a half ahead of Harm. "Almost like a salmon trying to head upstream."

"Except we're not doing it to mate." Harm replied with a smile. Then he realized what he'd said and was tempted to run headlong into the nearest newsstand.

"I should hope not, Harmon Rabb." Mac grinned with a little mock indignation in her expression as she dodged a busker with a tambourine. "It's a little early for that." She called over her right shoulder. Harm had run a little tight end when he was at Annapolis but nothing that could prepare him for the clutter and chaos of a New York sidewalk. A six-foot-four frame was simply not meant for this kind of agility without straining an oblique muscle. He was tempted to mentally add that such a feat was made doubly difficult by wearing a set of Class A dress blues from Washington to New York without the slightest reprieve.

The eventually reached the front doors of Saint Patrick's both panting for breath, gulping for air as they stepped into the rectory. "I have an objection!" Harm joked at half breath as he moved toward the aisle. Priest's bridal party smiled as the hunched over figures made their way toward the altar. "This man simply cannot get married without the entire compliment of his ushers present." Harm stepped up and shook Priest's hand. "Believe me, it's been a run, pretty much from JFK all the way here."

"Just glad you could make it, sir." Priest was wearing the widest smiled a man can wear.

"No 'sir' this weekend, okay? If I'm in your wedding party, I'm Harm." Harm gave the soon-to-be groom a pat on the shoulder and felt like AJ Chegwidden again for an eerie second.

"And if you're going to stand up for me, Harm, then it's Mario." Priest grinned continuously. "Now, go take your spot next to Dee, Harm." Priest gave him a friendly push and Harm slid in between the best man and the other ushers. The Catholic Priest continued with the rehearsal as Harm stood in his place. Mac sat in the fourth row of the pews, catching her breath as she observed the rehearsal ceremony.

In her mind, she couldn't help but be taken back to a time when it had been her and Mic. Regretful as that incident had. She regretted that it hadn't seemed as such at the time, but what happened with Mic was a regret. The totality of it as much as a regret created by the sum of its parts. She regretted that she'd gone to him so quickly, regretted that she'd kept him hanging on each glance, each touch as a sign of her affection. Regretted that each hope of Mic's had hinged on a word, a glance, an unexpressed feeling from Harm. She regretted using him as a substitute. Her impetuous nature had been the bane of her youth, but it had visited her long after she'd believed that she'd outgrown it. Topless rides to Flagstaff with Chris had been replaced by rides in Dalton's private jet or nights under the Southern Cross with Mic. She'd never waited on it. Never given something the chance to reveal itself. Even with Nate, she'd operated tactically. Waiting for him to play his hand, then when he'd proved too cautious, she'd taken control. He'd been willing, even active in trying to be her Prince Charming, but so had Mic. Therein she differentiated though. Nate had been possessed of virtues that Mic could only dream of.

Like Harm, Nate had that stubborn streak. Set in his ways and ornery as a mule, he was reliable, steady and strong. She thought to back to Billy's eulogy. Never unexpected. If Harm had been in that blaze, he would have done the same thing. She'd learned one thing from Uncle Matt. That the definition of an Alpha Male was not the size of his muscles but the size of his heart, especially when all seemed hopeless. Those men wanted to be Atlas, longing to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, and yet all too willing to shoulder the blame when all crumbled around them.

Women, she figured, longed for Paris. The doomed lover. Willing to move to the ends of the earth to possess fair Helen. But her, not to inflate her ego, longed for Hector. Brazen and bold. The definition of a warrior, of noble and strong, Of the unafraid and responsible. As much a symbol of strength and courage in death as he was in life. Even though she mourned her lost one, Mac looked up at Harm and saw another one. As tall, as strong, as moral as she once valued.

When the rehearsal ceremony finished, Mac smiled and watched as the happy couple mimicked a real walk down the centre aisle. She smiled to herself, even offering applause as they moved toward the baptismal font at the rear of the church. Mac watched the rehearsal come to an end.

"Alright." Lieutenant Commander Mario Fannelli turned to face the church. "You'd all better get this right tomorrow." He cheered as guided his bride-to-be to the baptismal font.

"I'll be sure of it." Demon countered with a grin.

"Good." Priest sighed. "Show time is 1100 hours tomorrow morning."

"And Captain Rabb, you'll be expected to lead the arch as the ranking officer." Priest looked to Harm. "Hope you're up to it, sir."

"I have the Colonel to keep me on Marine time, Commander." Harm laughed. "The rest is up to God given talent. But I've done it before"

0231 ZULU

FOUR SEASONS RESTAURANT

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Mac and Harm sat on opposite sides of the ivory table cloth and candle light at the Four Seasons Restaurant. "A Girl could get used to Frank's connections." Mac joked as she placed the table cloth on her lap.

"They're not too common on the salary of a Naval Captain." Harm mumbled as he sipped his ice water.

"And not all that important to a Marine Colonel." Mac countered. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Harm answered simply.

"Nothing, huh?" Mac fiddled with the stem of her glass.

"Just thinking about the kid." Harm remarked as he awaited dinner. "Think he spends more nights in the city on my couch or your guest room than he does at home."

"Yeah, I've really got to talk to Lily about that." Mac's expression changed to subtly that Harm wasn't sure he would have picked up on it if he wasn't paying close attention.

"You're secure enough about your place in that familial atmosphere to do that?" Harm leaned on the table.

"Oh yeah." Mac answered. "But I think that the General and Eileen have been meaning to do it for a while. It's unfathomable to me why she's doing what she's doing. That kid has been walking around with a fog in his eyes ever since Christmas but she doesn't even try to reach out to him. It's like she can't even look at him because of how much he reminds her of..."

"Yeah, it's spooky sometimes." Harm chuckled. "I thought it would be weird for you spending so much time with him."

"It might have been, but for the fact that they're different enough." Mac let the waiter set their plates down in front of them. "Billy lacks a lot of the things his dad had, but only had because of age. That sense of purpose, that moral clarity."

"Well, I can empathize with him. I was a sixteen year-old boy once, too. When you're sixteen, you think that you're smarter than everyone, that the rules don't apply and that you're invincible." Harm laughed as he stabbed some pasta with his fork.

"Harm, as I recall," Mac sliced her filet. "You ran off to Southeast Asia at sixteen to try and find your father. Say what you want about the kid, he's confined his heroics thus far to the greater Metro area."

"He does kind of remind me of what I always thought a son of mine would be like." Harm commented, staring down at the fork in his hand.

"Been thinking about kids a lot lately, Harm?" Mac tread lightly.

"Only since Harriet sent out the invitations." Harm answered honestly.

"Yeah, Little AJ's turning five." Mac played with the napkin on the table. "No wonder you've been thinking about kids."

"I suppose that deal's kind of null now, though." Harm muttered as the stuck a bit of pasta between his teeth.

"I don't know that it's null so much as we should just be really depressed that five years on the two of us are still single." Mac laughed heartily. "I mean you're a catch. I would have put money that you'd be the first one snapped up."

"You came the closest." Harm countered. "With a pretty good guy the second time, I don't think I ever gave you credit for that."

"Thanks, Harm." Mac smiled. There was a few seconds of silence before she felt a strong need to break the tension. "Not to channel your mother here, but you're a smart, successful, lawyer who's pretty good looking, why haven't you?"

"Finding the right person is......uh, a challenge." Harm chuckled. "Kind of got tired of looking after the mess that was Renee Peterson."

"Yeah, I've had that feeling." Mac played with a piece of asparagus on her plate. "Good ones don't just fall into your lap though."

"But don't you just wish they did some times?" Harm joked and the two of them shared a momentary laugh.

"It would be nice." Mac smiled brightly. "But I've been told enough times that tis dearness only that gives things their value."

"Thomas Paine." Harm commented on Mac's little paraphrase. His eyes locked on hers for a second. In an instant, he remembered all the looks that they'd shared in the past. He thought back over some of them. Out in front of JAG when she left for private practice, in his apartment when they thought Clark Palmer had killed Webb, on the ferry in Sydney Harbour, on the Admiral's porch the night of her engagement party. Looks meant to convey a depth of emotion they were both too afraid to give voice to. He swallowed hard as he fiddled with the napkin in his lap. "I think I should...um...hit the..."

"Oh, sure." Mac waved him off toward the bathroom. She hated how awkward this had all become. That she couldn't just sit down and talk with her one time best friend. That they couldn't share a meal without some thick fog of tension settling over their plates.

For his part, Harm was in the bathroom throwing water on his face and bracing himself against the vanity. "You're an adventure, Harm, I'll give you that." Harm looked in the mirror and saw the tuxedo dressed form of his infrequent angelic companion.

"The men's room, really?" Harm turned off the taps.

"Where else would be go undisturbed?" Nate questioned as he untied his bow tie. "Even in the after-life, I can't tie these things."

"Is there some reason that you couldn't just talk to me inside my head this weekend? Why do you always have to make an appearance?" Harm turned around to face the angel.

"Your head? Talk about a one hour parking zone." Nate joked.

"Funny." Harm shot sarcastically. "Got any advice, you're the one using the Supreme Being as an informant."

"She's scared, you both are. It's actually kind of funny." Nate grinned.

"And we've moved from funny to condescending." Harm shot. "You gonna help or not?"

"When she was scared around me, I just used to hug her." Nate quipped. "You have to remember that life has tossed Mac a seemingly never ending river of crap. Before Uncle Matt, there was no stability. Since her Uncle went to prison, JAG has kind of taken over the stabilizing role in her life. It's much the same with men in her life. I died, so did Dalton and Eddie. You'd need a PI to find Farrow and Brumby retreated to Australia. Hell, even you left her to go back to flying."

"I came back." Harm countered.

"And you left again, without saying goodbye if you'll remember." Nate parried. "I'm not saying that she's needy, she's not. But she has an inherent distrust of anything that causes instability. When that happens, her walls go up. You have tension, because you're meeting the resistance of those walls."

"Once again, any advice in there, oh Great Gazoo?" Harm joshed.

"On the way home, hug her. When you get to the hotel, order a movie on TV and get some snacks from the mini-bar, dumb dumb." Nate answered in his best Gazoo voice. Harm reached for a paper towel to dry his hands. When he looked back, the tuxedo wearing angel had gone.

1613 ZULU

SAINT PATRICK'S CATHEDRAL

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

I'm sitting in the church, about eight rows back from the altar. This is the definition of a big Italian wedding. There's gotta be like 350 people here. Harm and Demon, Priest's best man are both dressed in their Navy dress whites. The other two ushers are two of Commander Fanelli's brothers, New York Firefighters both of them and in their corresponding dress blue uniforms. If I thought that the Church that Mic had picked out for our wedding years ago was grand, it has nothing on Saint Patrick's. There couldn't be a more grand setting for a wedding, Saint Patrick's is right in the heart of Manhattan. It's across from the Rockefeller Centre for God's sake.

Maybe the greatest tragedy of my life has been the depth of my inner little girl. I just don't find weddings all that magical any more. They seem stale, even predictable and phony by now. That's not to demean the institution of marriage. I'm not a complete cynic. Marriage as an institution, if the people are mature and sincere, is wonderful. It's the public display of grandiose affection. Anything this big, this obvious, almost seemed targeted more at reassuring one's self than it was for anyone else's benefit. If you feel something, why does the rest of the world need to know? What good does it do you? If you're wrong, and statistics show almost fifty percent of the population usually is when marriage is involved, then aren't you just disappointing more people? Been there, done that, eyed the t-shirt at the gift shop on my way out.

But I'm not here to pass judgment on how other people want to do things. Weddings just have a way of focusing your own romantic feelings. Judging by the looks on the faces of most of the groom's side of the wedding party, they can practically hear the bridesmaids dresses hitting the floor when we get to the hotel for the reception later. Then there's Harm. I never have been able to read that face, even through many frustrated attempts and sleepless nights. He just looks like a proud friend. Just like he did at Bud's wedding. Just like he did at the Admiral's wedding last year. Tall, stoic, even serene. He stands almost statue still, that ego of his just daring women to take him all in. If I put any effort into it at all, I could probably count two dozen women in this church that are eying him like the last brownie on the buffet table.

Huh. A food reference. I wonder if my Marine stomach is trying to tell me something. Probably that I've been up since 0530, that I had almost nothing for breakfast and that I would have killed for a hamburger about an hour ago. If I thought running down the street in New York late in the evening on a Friday was tough, it wasn't anything compared to trying to master the same feat, in a dress, in the middle of a Saturday morning. A walk that would take maybe fifteen, twenty minutes back home took us almost an hour today. And if you've ever seen a New York City street vendor hot dog, you know that there are some things that even a Marine issued stomach isn't built to handle.

My eyes fix on Harm again. Tall and strong, still smiling fondly even though we're only thirty-five minutes into a Catholic wedding mass that's going to take a long, long time. I have to laugh. I think Harm has to pee. It's not that obvious, you'd have to be paying pretty close attention even to notice the little hot footing that he's doing. It's gonna be damn interesting to watch him make it through the rest of the Mass and the procession before he bolts it downstairs to the head.

Harm's been pretty good for the last couple weeks at getting me to chastise myself. Every once in a while, I'll think that it might not be so bad. It might even be alright to start something with him. Or it might be a total, absolute and completely unabashed catastrophe. A few years ago, when he was a Lieutenant Commander or even a Commander at JAG, when either of us could be bounced around the globe at a moment's notice, maybe it wouldn't have worked then. But maybe it wouldn't work now. Maybe sitting at a desk in the E Ring would drive Harm slowly insane, separating him from his beloved planes. Forcing him to deal with politicians, Langley pencil pushers, NSA computer geeks and flag officers in love with the smell of their own rectums.

Then there's me. Well, I'm no prize either. There are times I think that I went to Chris, went to Dalton, went to Farrow because they were men I thought I deserved. Then I realized, after I'd made something out of the drunken teenager I once was, that I deserved a little better. Perhaps, the emphasis should be on 'a little'. Enter Mic and Dalton. Then forever, hanging over Mic and Dalton was Harm. Harm, taken as ideal, taken as unattainable, taken as...taken as...taken as... Think I've read enough Oprah books in the last five months?

I go through stages with Harm. Stages ranging from so in love with the man that I want him, to so mind-numbingly angry at him that I have a desire to pump a nine millimetre slug between his eyes and turn out the lights. The middle ground is where things get complicated, me being me I naturally made my home there. I never have a right to be that angry with him, it's normally a visceral reaction to either his predictability or his virtuous attitude and usually it's some combination of the two. And therein lies the rub. His behaviour is one of those things that makes you love him and hate him in tandem. It creates heat, chemistry, fire, passion. It's flint on steel, it starts the fire. And every encounter feeds it. Eventually, it just engulfs you.

Fire. I hate myself for the metaphor I just used. In this year, these last few months, I almost can't stare at a candle without wanting to breakdown in tears. I saw what fire can do to you that day in December and I've felt like a burn victim every day since. Scars heal, eventually you don't notice them, or feel them or look at them. But once in a while you do. Nate's mom told me a story about when her she was emigrating from Europe with her older sisters in the early forties, she was little and she fell on the boat and broke her arm. They set it and it healed. But Sixty years later, every time the barometric pressure changes, the bones in that arm still hurt.

So, I keep staring up at Harm wondering what he's thinking about. Wondering what my future means if I decide to give in one of these nights when we're watching movies at my apartment, or tonight when the room service cart makes its way up to our hotel rooms while we both soak our feet. The way Harm dances, we should both be sore after about a half hour. The weekend has been a mixed bag so far. It was awkward last night at dinner, but the little back and forth, Hepburn and Tracy routine we did in the airport and on the plane was a little bit of the spark that you long for. The laughing, the joking, even tossing popcorn at each other that went on last night as we watched movies in my hotel room. It's good that he can be comfortable around me again, it's good that I can be comfortable around him, too. Looks like the Mass is just about to hit its big and predictable climax. Harm's hot footing has turned into notably digging the toes of his shoe into the floor. Man, watching him dash downstairs to the head in a few minutes is gonna be a lot of guilty fun.

1742 ZULU

YANKEE STADIUM

THE BRONX, NEW YORK CITY

Mac is trying to get us killed. "Did you really have to wear that?" I look over my right shoulder at her as she strides along side me through the corridors of the House that Ruth built. She's wearing a Boston Red Sox cap and a white Sox home jersey.

"I can feel it Harm, this year's gonna be the year." Mac cheers as we head toward our section in left field near the wall.

"You want to not say that so loud in the middle of Yankee Stadium?" I shoot through gritted teeth as yet another member of the Yankee faithful tosses her a cross look. "I thought you grew up in Arizona."

"I did. But that was well before the Diamondbacks. As long as I was growing up, there were always a Red Sox game on Fox every Saturday afternoon. Besides, how can you not feel bad for the Red Sox after so many years?" I literally think she's taunting me aloud now just to get me to react. If she just didn't look so damn cute.

"I didn't say that I didn't feel bad. I was just prefer to not be forced into defending your honour against every Yankee fan with a grudge today." I protest as we shuffle down the steps toward the aisle where our seats are located. I'm saying a silent prayer that our seats are located along the aisle so that a quick getaway is possible if it's needed.

"Well, Harmon, it's good to know your chivalry isn't dead." She reaches up and flicks my nose with her index finger. Oh yeah, she's enjoying this. Maybe a little too much. A chorus of boos rain down on Mac from the Yankees fans all around us. Somewhere, in the back of my head, I swear to God I can hear that damn angel laughing his ass off at this. Right now, I'm trying to do anything with my hands but pull her to me by the waist. She's definitely been more flirtatious since yesterday. But that kind of move still feels like getting a yellow light when you're doing seventy in a forty.

"No, it's not." The two of us take our seats. I shift in mine rather uncomfortably. I realize you're supposed to be on top of everyone else at a ballgame, especially a Yankees game, but the last time I was at a ballgame Tony Gwynn was still winning batting titles for the Padres.

"Harm, can you flag down the hot dog guy for me?" She questions, that innocent almost school girl-ish expression on her face.

"Mac, a New York hot dog?" I feign disappointment. "And you were doing so well."

"You know what they say about Marines and our appetites." She smiles wickedly as she leans up and brings her lips close to my ear. "They're insatiable." The hot breath and husky tone trickle across my ear.

I raise my hand in the air and gulp hard. "Two hot dogs here!"


	29. The River

It was the cold that finally woke her. Sarah MacKenzie sat up in bed and stared down at the empty space beside her. The early hour of the morning cast a dim blue pall over the entire room. The lights on her alarm clock were out. Even the streetlights outside were out. Mac got up and felt the cold crash of air over the bare skin of her legs. She slowly walked over to the window and slid back the gentle curtains. There was snow on the window ledge. Why the hell would there be snow in May? Mac subconsciously ran her hands over her upper arms to warm herself.

None of the electronics in the house were on. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her feet. None of this seemed real. Or something was out of place. The photos that she could have sworn she'd put away were right back where they had placed them. What the hell was going on?

She heard a familiar click of the lock to her front door, and the creak of it sliding open. She got to her feet again and moved to the doorway of her bedroom. His back was to her. That tall, lean, back, that well-manicured crop of hair, his one hand stuffed so forcefully in his jeans. It couldn't be real. It was a dream, a lie that didn't come true. He turned around and faced her. That crooked, cocksure grin was firmly in place. She ran at him and leapt into his arms. Nate stumbled back, his back slamming into the wall, causing him to cough. "Something wrong, Marine?"

She looked down and saw his left arm in a cast and sling. Her eyes were drawn to the skin under his collar. Just above the hair on his chest, she caught a glimpse of purple and blue discolored skin. She opened his shirt a little and watched as the bruising and burned skin was revealed under her fingertips. Memories started flooding back.

"But…" She whispered.

"You've been asleep for two days, Marine." He smiled at her.

"How…" She shook her head. He was dead. She knew it.

"The attack," He started to explain. "We got the kids out. I saw the falling ceiling at the last minute, got my hands up over my head. Broke my arm in three places, two ribs and blunt force trauma to my head. I was out for five days in a coma, Mac. I think you got all of three hours sleep during the seven days I was in the hospital. That's why you just slept for two days."

"Jed and Abbey?" Mac was starting to piece the memories together.

"Were at the hospital just about every day. Sam was, too. My parents, my sister and AJ. But you and Billy practically lived out of that hospital room last week." Nate began to lightly stroke her hair. Mac began nodding. He was right, he was alive. She could reach out and touch him.

"Where were you?" She asked.

"Ran into the office for a few minutes. The power's out all over DC." He explained. "Just something quick. I figured you'd be out for a couple more hours."

"How long did I sleep?" Mac shook her head, trying to find a smile.

"Off and on for about thirty-nine hours." He answered. "Honey, you were so tired when we got home, you barely made it to the bed. I think you got up for a few minutes here and there to scratch a path in the carpet to the bathroom. The TV kept you company. With this thing," Nate tapped his cast, "I've been told to sleep upright for a couple weeks."

"I thought, I mean I was sure that you were…" She felt her lower lip quiver.

"I know, I've never seen you so restless but I didn't want to wake you because you badly needed your sleep." He guided the two of them over to the couch.

"What day is it?" She looked up from the carpet.

"It's about 6am on Christmas Eve." He explained. "The Niagara Falls trip was cancelled for obvious reasons." Mac looked up into his eyes. He was alive. A little banged up and bruised, probably even burned still.

"But you're still alive." She smiled and hugged him again. This time a little more gingerly to make allowances for his wounded wing. "I was sure; I mean…you know that I have these…" She circled her hands around the sides of her head to indicate what she couldn't say.

"That you're precognitive?" He filled in. "Yeah, we've talked about it."

"I just, it was so real." She shook her head. "I thought you were dead, that the falling piece of ceiling…and I saw the funeral and just months of things that came after…"

"Sarah, you slept pretty well for thirty-nine hours after being up for pretty well a week straight. Jed and Abbey were over yesterday, they were really worried about you. They said all you could talk about at the hospital was how close I was to dying." Nate raised a hand to her cheek to explain. "That your mind decided to play some tricks on you isn't exactly a surprise."

"But you're alive?" Her smile brightened.

"And in the flesh." She reached forward and undid the buttons on his shirt, letting it fall open. Sure enough, there was a massive amount of bruised and burned tissue on the left side of his torso. The scars of his heroism. "There were a few skin grafts, apparently." He explained. "That accounts for some of the bruising. Some of the scars from the burning may never fully heal."

"But you're alive." This statement was final. She hugged him again and felt a slight urge to cry.

"And you're awake." He smiled. "And it's Christmas Eve. We have to think of something to do."

"Is there still a vigil being held at GWU?" Mac inquired.

"Yeah, all the crosses. The candles are still burning." He nodded. "Probably a good place to start."

"We could finish up some Christmas shopping, a little walk through the Georgetown promenade." Her smiled warmed up and she moved closer to him on the couch.

"I've already got your gift." Nate fired back.

"And your mother and your father, your sisters, your nephews, Sam…" Mac let her voice trail off.

"Okay, okay, good point." He nodded. "So, the vigil and some Christmas shopping. Anything else?"

"I want to go to Church tonight." Mac's face was deadly serious.

"That's something new for us. My sister's church?" Nate leaned back on the couch. "Might be a bit of a hardship getting out to Crystal City tonight. With the power out in the District, I'm willing to bet that the bridges across the river are already filling up with people trying to get flights out of National that have been delayed at Dulles."

"You don't want to go?" She asked.

"No, it's just something new for us." He shrugged. "If you want to go, we can absolutely go." He tapped his cast lightly. "But you're gonna have to drive. So go easy, Marine."

1722 ZULU

LIVING GREEN ORGANIC MARKET

ADAMS MORGAN, DC

When the power came back on at 10am, most of the city's residents decided to venture out into the winter wonderland that awaited them. Harm decided to do a little grocery shopping. His meeting with Nate had been pushed back to the 28th from the 18th after what happened at GWU. He wasn't quite sure whether to be grateful for the extra ten days or not. He worried that with every extra day spent in DC, he was that much closer to just agreeing with the world that becoming the staff JAG for the JCS was the best career move.

So, grocery shopping was the most pressing order of the day. He wandered the aisles at Living Green with a basket hung off one arm. He wanted to prepare a little Christmas Eve treat, maybe some vegetarian pesto ravioli or take a legitimate swing at making the world's first good tofu turkey. His basket was just about full; he'd grab a few vegetables for a salad and then make for the checkout aisle. As he passed the aisle with the salad dressing, he saw a shorter woman outstretched trying to finagle a bottle of Sun-Dried Tomato and Basil off one of the high shelves.

"Nicole…?" Harm wandered down the aisle and he saw Peach fall back off her tip-toes to look at him.

"Oh, uh, Captain…" She brushed herself off a little.

"Harm's fine." He beamed a smile at her. The he reached up and grabbed the intended bottle off the shelf. "Didn't peg you as a vegetarian."

"Early new year's resolution." She offered a nervous smile. "Trying to eat healthier, live healthier."

"Still at State?" Harm was no longer interested in just saying 'hi' and moving on. He was kind of wanting the human contact he'd been lacking for a couple days.

"For a while. It's kind of getting mundane though. I got an offer from the Deputy Director of Intelligence over at Langley. He wants me to be his Executive Assistant." She brushed a little hair out of her face.

"Seems like a good offer." Harm stuck out his lower lip impressively. "It's the Intelligence Directorate instead of Operations, so you'd be an analyst?"

"Yeah, a lot more responsibility than I currently have. Decent raise, too." She nodded. "But I like the routine a little bit. Walking into the doors at Truman. Knowing the Capitol Police, the people I work with."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. I'm torn between flight ops with COMNAVAIRLANT and becoming the Staff JAG to the JCS." Harm nodded.

"Staff JAG to the JCS is a real fast track spot." It was Nicole's turn to be impressed. They both were ignoring the elephant in the room. But that wasn't really like either of them. "Did you make it out to the hospital last week?"

"Nah." Harm shook his head. "You?"

"That was a level of discomfort I wasn't sure I wanted to put anyone through." Nicole nodded. "I'm sure this is playing into my whole decision with wanting to jump ship across the river."

"Yeah. Same kind of thing going on over here. I think I probably would have taken that job at the JCS but I keep wondering if there's anything left for me in DC besides just a job." Harm was starting to feel a little less uncomfortable. Then a thought smacked him between the eyes. "Were you serious about the whole eating healthier thing?"

"You gonna give me a shopping list?" She joked. They shared a laugh. "Yeah, I am."

"Come over tonight; let me cook dinner for you. Show you how to do vegetarian right." Harm offered.

She bit her lower lip. She was thinking. Was he asking her on a date? Was he just being nice? Was this just two animals on mirrored sides of an awkward situation trying to lick each other's wounds? It was definitely based in some kind of genuine emotional thought. "Yeah, sure." She smiled. Harm gave her his address and the two of them parted with a smile.

Harm headed over to the produce aisle to grab a few veggies for his salad. Was he asking her out on a date? Did it even matter? So much of his social life for so long had been Mac; in all her many confused and contradictory forms. He was forgetting how to throw strikes, how to get his pitches over the plate.

Nicole was attractive, she was smart and she wasn't a shrinking violet. You couldn't be if Langley thought enough of you to make you the Executive Assistant to the Deputy Director of Intelligence. Maybe it'd be nice to find someone who wasn't so intrinsically connected with the military. Even if she was someone he'd met through work. But he was letting his mind run away with him. It was one dinner; where they'd probably spend most of the night rehashing old anecdotes and trying to tell each other what really pissed them off about the two people who weren't in the room. A couple of hours where they could talk about work or Washington and have a good conversation.

Harm grabbed a few vegetables, tossed them in a brown paper bag and put the bag in his basket. Then he made for the checkout counter. And even if it was a date, so what? He'd done dates before. It had been a while, but he knew the checklist. Talk, but not too much. Don't be your own favorite topic of conversation. Don't force your jokes, let them come. It's more important that she thinks you're funny than you think you're being funny. He slid out of the checkout aisle and headed for home.

Now he was doing pre-game? How casual or formal did he want to dress? Was lighting important? Did he have time to run out and grab a bottle of wine? What kind of wine went well with the dinner he was planning to make? He almost felt like he was back in his twenties, when every romantic decision seemed to have the weight of the world riding on it. The SUV turned toward his apartment and Harm's mind was racing, he could feel his pulse slowly begin to pick up correspondingly. Maybe he needed to exercise, do something to take the edge off.

His mind began to wander back to his situation with his job. The Pentagon had a gym but crossing the river into Arlington right now would probably be a chore and a half. Well, was there anything left for him in Washington?

1934 ZULU

GEORGETOWN PROMENADE

GEORGETOWN

Mac and Nate found traversing the Georgetown Promenade to be its own kind of marathon. Everyone who ran into the Junior Senator from Virginia wanted to shake his hand and tell him what a great thing he'd done some nine days earlier. Most were surprised, some even amazed that he was out of the hospital already. That he was up and about, even just a few blocks from Mac's apartment seemed to be extremely good fortune. He was sore, something he didn't like admitting aloud. After breaking his leg last summer and watching Mac urge him to slowly assume his recovery, he wasn't in the mood to be coddled. If he was stiff, or sore, he'd just push through it until he could sleep and recharge the battery.

They were accumulating their Christmas gifts for tomorrow's big trip out to Leesburg for a Ross family Christmas. Sam was leaving this afternoon for Southern California and would be back on the 27th, when he'd promptly get his Christmas gift. The Bartlets would spend Christmas and New Year's in New Hampshire but would be back in Iowa on January 3rd, and if he was cleared to fly, Nate would be right there with them.

Mac had been a little jumpy all day. She wasn't crazy about losing almost two days to sleep. But it had all seemed so real. She found herself squeezing him here and there to make sure that he was still there. She was grateful that she'd get to immerse herself in a true family Christmas for once. Some place where the house was warm, where there were pictures on the wall of the people sitting at the table. And where there were stockings over the fireplace for everyone in the house. JAG Christmases were great occasions, times filled with genuine emotion and she'd take Nate to his first tonight at Bud and Harriet's.

The trip to the vigil on the GWU campus this morning had been a surreal one for her. She'd played the exact same scene in her dream. The rows of the crosses, the burning candles, the crowd of students and teachers watching the emergency crews work through the rubble to try and find some new piece of closure for a waiting family. When Nate made his appearance, he was mobbed by grateful students, professors and parents who simply wanted to shake his hand and thank him for what he'd done. The two of them had stood there in silence for just a few minutes, letting the cold crisp air of the Chesapeake wash over them.

On the drive back to Georgetown from the University, Nate had tried to keep the mood light. He sang gently along with the radio, or made quick jokes about Mac's reddened frost-touched nose. Anything to make her smile and him laugh. Shopping for the nephews was easy. Kids told you what they wanted and you made an effort to go out and get it. But Nate sucked at shopping for his sisters. So Mac was an invaluable asset here, particularly when shopping for Anna. She was slowly readjusting her comfort level. He was here, a lost thirty-six year-old man trying to Christmas shop with one arm and she had a hard time not finding him adorable.

"Would you hurry up? Your dad's not that difficult to buy for." Mac lectured. Nate's head popped out from behind a rack.

"The man has very exacting standards. In my twenties, I mostly bought him ties for fear of screwing up any other gift." Nate tested out the relative merits of the black fedora versus the charcoal one yet again. "My head's bigger than his is. You think I should go down a size?"

"I don't think there's that much difference." Mac tenderly reached up and pulled the brim down in front of his eyes. "Your dad's coloring is lighter than yours, go with the charcoal and let's go. We have to get you home and get you changed, more of an ordeal now that only one arm functions and we have to get to church early if we're going to get to Harriet's on time."

"You're as accurate as a Swiss watch, you know that?" He laughed and used his good arm to pluck the hat off his head.

"You'd better believe it. Now, let's go." She gave him a playful whack on the rear with her purse and he walked over to the line-up at the checkout till. She watched him wade into the crowd of people. There were always going to be those who recognized him now. Whether he was the Junior Senator from Virginia, the Vice President or just the hero of December 15th. He'd have to shake a hand or two everywhere he went, accept a hearty and well-intentioned 'thank you' and move on to the next person. She exhaled heavily. And yet, in spite of all of it - and it seemed there was more everyday - she did love him dearly.

He paid for the hat; the girl behind the counter neatly tucked it in a cylindrical box and slid the box down the counter to where another one was waiting to wrap it. He took the newly wrapped parcel and returned to her side. "Church and then the Roberts'?" He asked.

"Yeah." She nodded and the two of them walked out of the store.

2217 ZULU

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION…

The ravioli were boiling in the pot. She was just a little late, expected around seven but now at about quarter after, she'd yet to show. Harm's mind ran over with possibilities. Maybe she was just fashionably late. Maybe she just wanted to see how sure of this he was, if he'd get cold feet when she wasn't exactly on time. Or maybe there was a National Security thing; she was after all a highly placed State Department official.

Then again, maybe, just maybe she wasn't that interested.

All these things stood in Harm's mind as he hovered over the boiling pot. He'd gone casual for the evening. Just a simple black button-down shirt and jeans. Nice, but not too nice. The collar was fresh from the dry-cleaner; the top two buttons were undone just to keep him relaxed. He decided against candles and simply went with the dimmer switch on the wall. Dinner was simple, just the ravioli and salad with a nice red wine and maybe a little jazz in the background. Not make-out music jazz like say, John Coltrane. Nah, he'd opted for a little Sonny Rollins to keep the mood a little more non-committal.

But his palms were sweating. He was a Captain in the United States Navy; he hurtled off carrier decks and flew fighter jets. Why were his palms sweating? He did a little pre-game on himself. His palms were sweating because this wasn't a safe thing. If it were another woman he knew, it could just be social thing. Just someone whom he regularly socialized with and this one night would be nothing different. But outside of the few weeks they worked together on the Three Wise Men project, Harm had never even really spoken to Nicole. There was no safety net here. That's why his palms were sweating.

7:20. Now he was getting nervous.

A hard knock came at the door. Should he shout that it was unlocked? No, that was too callous. He headed over to the door and opened it. There she stood. Her hair fell loosely down to her shoulders and was drawn back carefully behind one ear. She'd worn a dress. Nothing too fancy, but like something you'd wear to a work Christmas party or something. Simple, black, cut off at the knee, conservative neckline. It was a perfect neutral dress for people who weren't sure just how social this outing was supposed to be. "Can I come in?" She chanced with a smile.

"Oh, yeah." Harm moved back out of the door. She slipped past him into the house. She'd walked in, curling just a little into his personal space for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for him to catch a bit of her perfume on the end of his nose.

"Is dinner ready?" She caught a quick glance of the steam rising over the stove.

"Just about." Harm moved away from the door and quickly got in behind the island so that he was back over the stove. She strode over purposefully, putting a little more emphasis in the sway of her hips. He let his eyes track her using his peripheral vision. His brain searched for something to say. "A lot of snow today."

"Spent an hour digging my car out this morning." She laughed ruefully. "Took about as long to drive to the market."

"How long's the drive usually?" Harm asked.

"Depends on how much traffic there is on Connecticut." She replied, her eyes carefully working their way around the apartment. "Usually ten minutes."

"Yeah, the airports were crazy all day." Usually Harm hated small talk but this was a bit of a feeling out that probably happened all the time.

"You aren't going home for Christmas?" She leaned over the island.

"My parents probably wouldn't be there. Wouldn't make a lot of sense. Thought about driving up to my grandmother's in Pennsylvania tomorrow. No one goes out Christmas Day, probably wouldn't be a lot of people on the roads." Harm poured the contents of the pot into a strainer, draining the water.

"Good point." She nodded.

"What about you?" He shook the strainer and put the ravioli on to two plates with the salad.

"I used to love Christmas in New York." She answered. "But it's gotten kitschy in recent years. In all the years I've lived here, I've never spent Christmas in DC." She smiled a little. "My apartment's got a decent view of the Capital and the Monument, so it could be nice."

"Yeah, sounds like it." Harm finished preparing the two plates and took them over to the table. She joined him and sat opposite. Unable to resist the presence of the bottle on the table she eyed it for a second.

"You realize you committed a cardinal sin, right?" She looked up from the bottle just for a second to see if she could get him going.

"The wine?" Harm asked.

"No, you told a woman you could cook. There's an unspoken code that says once I'm told that I have to demand proof." She beamed a quick smile and he laughed.

"Well try this on, then." He slid the plate down in front of her. She picked her fork up from the table and tried one of the noodles. She immediately raised her fingers to her lips. "No good?" He questioned.

"Harm, this is fantastic!" She enthused, careful not to smile out of worry that she'd have pesto stuck to her teeth. The two of them talked about work, the holiday and a lot of other things over dinner. When the plates were cleared, they kept talking until they'd finished the bottle of wine. Harm generally grew more comfortable as the night wore on. But when he'd looked down at the clock above the TV and seen that it was eleven o'clock, he knew he needed to say goodnight so he could go to the Wall.

"Nicole, I'm having a lot of fun, but I've got one more errand to run tonight…" Harm let his voice trail off.

"At eleven o'clock, you Navy types really do burn the candle at both ends." She laughed lightly.

"No, it's…" Harm paused. "Back in '69, my dad went down on Christmas Eve over North Vietnam. Every year since, I've gone to the Wall on Christmas Eve. And I didn't have the chance to go earlier today so…"

"Say no more." She got up from the table.

"I really don't mean to push you out." Harm quickly covered. "I mean, I had fun tonight."

"So, did I." She stopped getting ready to leave and looked up at him.

"We should do this again some time?" Harm offered, getting his own jacket on, preparing to walk her down to her car.

"I'd like that." She offered him a genuine smile. "Do you have a pen and paper?" Harm walked over to the kitchen and fished a pen and paper out of a drawer. She took them and wrote down her phone number before taking a magnet and sticking it to the fridge. "Just so it doesn't get lost."

"Understood." Harm laughed and closed the door behind them.


	30. Meeting Across the River

Her heels clacked hard against the tile. It had been a long few days to consider what she wanted to do next. This was a big step up in her career. She went from being an advisor to an Undersecretary of State to being the first person in line to become number two on the depth chart at the CIA's Directorate of Intelligence. She was going from a job where policy would depend on recommendations she made to her boss who then made recommendations to his to a job where her analysis of a situation would mean life or death for American agents on the ground all over the world.

The new Deputy Director of Intelligence was Mike Bradley, the last Executive Assistant to the Deputy Director of Intelligence. Bradley was now the number two man in the entire Agency. He'd started off in Ops, well what was then the Operations Directorate and was now referred to as the National Clandestine Service. After a few too many close calls in the field, Bradley had been moved to the Intelligence Directorate and fast-tracked his way up toward the top.

Calling her over from State had been an interesting move when it came to the politics of Langley. The Agency didn't like outsiders. It was Washington's ultimate gated community. Not one based on race or creed or color but on experience. If you weren't recruited right out of school or cultivated by the old Operations regime on the Farm – the in-house name for the CIA's training school at Camp Peary – you weren't to be trusted.

She got to Mike Bradley's outer office where his Secretary sat, likely filling out a memo or planning some of the DDI's schedule. Nicole took a seat and waited her turn. The Deputy Director of Intelligence also functioned as the Deputy Director for the entire CIA. His counterpart in the National Clandestine Service had enough on his plate running a branch of the service with over a thousand employees, countless thousands of intelligence assets and making an attempt to 'work' with the other intelligence arms of the government.

This was the circle Nicole DiPiccio was about to enter. It was an inner sanctum no larger than a dozen members at the top of the CIA hierarchy. These people controlled the flow of information involving foreign intelligence operations and assets. How many times had Nate read CIA briefs since she'd worked for him? How many times had the two of them been forced to work on incomplete information because it was all well above their security clearance?

Now that wasn't true of either of them. She was about to have her clearance raised to the highest in the country. He was a Junior Senator sitting on the Senate Select Committee, getting intelligence briefings from some of Mike Bradley's analysts every week, not to mention classified signal intercepts brought over by the NSA.

"Nicole, come on in." Mike Bradley stuck his head out the door to his inner office. The DDI was wearing a predictable white collared shirt with a blue and red striped tie. The big vista window behind the desk in his office looked over miles of forested, unincorporated Langley before touching the Potomac in the distance. "So, you've thought about it?" Mike dropped himself down in his desk chair.

"Pretty thoroughly, actually." She nodded a little.

"I was a little surprised. I figured you would have been in here before Christmas." Mike leaned over his desk.

"Well, it's a departure. I've been at the State Department for ten years now. It's tough to think about changing the routine." She gave a slightly self-deprecating chuckle. "But I'm ready to move on."

"Great!" Mike cheered and slapped both his palms on the top of his desk. "Tell my Secretary, she'll make the appropriate arrangements to have things set up for you for Monday. Your office will be right down the hall, next to the Deputy Director for the National Clandestine Service."

"Thanks, Mike." She stood and extended her hand.

"Hey, thank you." Mike replied with a smile.

TWO DAYS EARLIER

RUSSELL SENATE OFFICE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

"You should be taking it easy." Sam stood opposite his boss.

"I have three meetings today. One of them's with you, that _is_ an easy day for a United States Senator." Nate finished making notes on a brief for the Armed Services Committee. "What did you want to talk about anyway?"

"The campaign." Sam took his usual chair.

"Bruno's running the Senate campaign. Talk to him." Nate shrugged.

"I'm talking about the Bartlet campaign." Sam leaned back in the chair.

"What about it?" Nate looked up from his notes.

"You can appear at joint events, speak for the campaign, and even do some proxy campaigning, all that's fine." Sam shifted a little in the chair. "I don't want you attacking Hoynes."

"John Hoynes can't be President." Nate stated simply.

"That's a fine position to hold." Sam engaged. "But the simple fact is that this primary is too close to call. It's a three way race in Iowa with Bartlet, Hoynes and Wiley. Bartlet's gonna win New Hampshire, Hoynes is going to win South Carolina and he's gonna carry the South. Governor Bartlet is going to have to win Michigan, California, New Jersey, Massachusetts and New York to keep up. It's all going to come down to the Illinois and Nevada in mid-April."

"Hoynes wins Nevada?" Nate guessed.

"Probably, but Nevada is nothing. Illinois is the prize. If Bartlet wins Illinois, he takes that into Ohio, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin and Minnesota." Sam explained. "That's the ballgame. If Hoynes wins Illinois then the Bartlet team's done. So I don't want you bashing Hoynes in public. If a Democrat wins the White House, you're gonna get something. Hoynes is going to have you unite the party after a long primary; he's going to have to give his VP spot to a big time Bartlet supporter."

"John Hoynes is a narcissist. He's not going to give the VP spot to anyone he thinks might overshadow him." Nate argued.

"He will. He'll have to because he can't give it to Bartlet." Sam explained. "He can't do it if he's got you on camera trashing him."

"John Hoynes can't be President, Sam. Even if he offered it to me, I wouldn't take it. I'd almost rather endorse a Republican than John Hoynes." Nate cracked his knuckles. "But I can avoid saying that into television cameras."

"Good." Sam closed his clipboard. "Bruno's got good numbers on the Senate race. The Senate isn't in session until January 12th, so we're out in Iowa on the 3rd. Captain Rabb is in your outer office."

"Send him in." Nate smiled. Sam got out of his chair and headed for the door. Not more than two seconds passed between Sam's exit and Harm's entrance. "Morning, Harm."

"Afternoon now." Harm pointed out.

"True." Nate pulled out another brief from the Armed Services committee. "Take the JCS job."

"Not sure you get a say." Harm fired sarcastically.

"True, but you want me to talk to the Admiral." Nate dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair. "I'm gonna cut it straight with you. You're forty, you're a Navy Captain, and you don't have the traps or the flight hours to impress when you put up for Surface Warfare School. You're also smart enough to know the only way you get flagged is if you get a carrier command, which you can't get unless you get Surface Warfare training. In short, you're going to be in your fifties, nearing in on retirement well before you are even considered for your flag."

"It should be my decision." Harm countered.

"You're absolutely right. But you've got honor and you've got brains, both of those are rare enough in Washington. I'm telling you as someone who has survived a long time in this town. Take the JCS job." Nate finished his little sermon.

"I actually came in here to tell you that I was going to take the JCS job and you could call off your meeting with Fitzwallace." Harm explained. "Nice to know someone thinks I'm making the right decision."

"As long as _you_ think you're making the right decision." Nate reasoned, a hand coming up to his chin.

"Did you really want to chew me out? You kind of turned on me pretty hard there." Harm tried not to laugh to himself.

"Listen, I almost died last week. I've developed something of an aversion to nuance as a result." Nate leaned forward. "You're an absolutely superb officer, but patronage from highly placed flag officers doesn't happen all the time. Four stars can flag you almost at will. You're smart enough to know that. Having Toby Ingles working out in PACCOM helps you, but if you really want to be in this long term, you need friends in the right places."

"Merit means nothing?" Harm sounded taken aback.

"This is Washington." Nate laughed. "There's an old joke about the Senate. You spend the first year wondering how you got here and the next five wondering how the other ninety-nine did. Listen, sometimes the right person meets the right patron and you get a masterpiece, okay?"

"Alright." Harm got out of his chair. Nate got up and shook his hand. "I'll enjoy the Pentagon."

"Maybe for the first five minutes." Nate laughed. Harm turned and headed out of Nate's office. The Junior Senator from Virginia fell back into his chair. The painkillers were sapping his energy, but the one day that he'd tried to go without the pills had been worse on him than even the worst fatigue that came with taking them. The intercom buzzed loudly. He had originally thought it was a good idea to just lump these meetings together in the middle of the day.

Out in the hallway of the Russell Senate Office Building, Harm ran into Nicole heading toward Nate's office. He stopped when he saw her, and waited a few seconds before the two of them were toe-to-toe. "Business with Mr. Ross of Virginia?" Harm tossed her one of his famous smiles.

"Just trying to figure out if he had a hand in getting me this CIA offer." Nicole explained. "I don't want to be up for something like this just because he feels like he was holding me back when we worked together. I want to know that I'm earning the things I get."

"Admirable." Harm was actually a lot more impressed than he was letting on.

"Really?" She tried not to let her cheeks flush at his approval. "I was worried this morning that I was being really anal retentive about this." There was a tension-filled silence for a few seconds. Both were looking for something to say.

"How was your first Christmas season in DC?" Harm remembered something she'd said on their non-date 'date'.

"Oh, I went home for a couple days anyway." She smiled. "I just couldn't resist." She tucked an errant sprig of hair behind her ear.

"How about Thursday night at Filomena?" Harm changed tack.

"Sounds like fun. Seven?" She responded.

"How about eight, as an insurance policy against work?" Harm countered.

"A smart man." She smiled. They nodded a pleasant goodbye and she walked into Nate's office.

"Senator, Miss DiPiccio is here." Nate's Secretary buzzed him and Nate punched his own call button.

"Send her in, Mrs. Clarkson." Nate answered, running a hand through his dark ruffled hair. Nate leaned forward in his chair as he watched his former colleague from the State Department stride into his office. "Afternoon." Nate extended a small greeting.

"How's your arm?" Nicole asked, a small flash of concern showing on her face.

"Definitely been better." He smiled. "What's up, why'd you want to see me?"

"I was wondering if you were the one who'd talked to Mike Bradley about getting me that offer at CIA." Nicole took a seat where Harm had just sat.

"Mike called me for a reference but you got the offer on your own merits." Nate was a little more upright and focused than he had been in his meeting with Harm. "You're smart, you're respected as an intelligence mind in a very volatile and important region of the world, you're assertive and importantly for Mike, who has to answer to female Senators on the Hill, you're a woman. The first woman ever to make it that high up in the CIA's treehouse. That ought to engender a little goodwill on the Hill for the boys Down the Hall."

"I'm a stunt?" Nicole was irritated.

"You're a political tool. So am I, so is Mike and half the people in this town. This is the most politicized square footage in the world. One suggestion might be to get over yourself." Nate smirked. "You're tough, you're smart and Mike's betting you don't melt under the lights, Congress' or anyone else's. Are we done?"

There was a question. A final one, a telling one, delivered with an air of security. "Yeah." She let her eyes fall to the floor for a quick second. "Guess I'll be appearing before the Intelligence Committee someday soon."

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna take it easy on ya." Nate offered and they shared a quick laugh. She disappeared into the outer office and Nate slouched back into the chair. He punched his intercom button. "Mrs. Clarkson, will you get Sam in here?"

Nate waited a few seconds until the door opened and Sam came striding in. "What's up?"

"When you moved here, what real estate agent did you use?" Nate got out of the chair.

"Local guy named George Monroe, good reputation, nice guy, works hard." Sam explained. "Why?"

"I asked Mac to marry me the day after Christmas, she said yes." Nate explained and he watched the smile on Sam's face grow. "I want us to move into a new place together. I figure it should be close to her work at JAG and being as I'm the Senator from Virginia, it should probably be in Virginia. I've found a really nice Colonial in Annandale, a couple nice places in Burke and one in Herndon that I'd like to take her to see."

"I'll get you his business card." Sam's grin was now at mega-wattage levels.

"If you make some wise ass crack about me finally maturing…"Nate moved out from behind his desk.

"No cracks, I promise." Sam raised his hands.

2 DAYS LATER

FILOMENA

WASHINGTON, DC

They'd agreed to arrive separately. She'd called him to tell him that she might be a minute or two late. She had some things to set in motion at the State Department before she could leave and a couple of her meetings had run long at Langley. He took that to mean that this was his second…er…maybe first date with the new Executive Assistant to the Deputy Director of Intelligence at CIA. In other words, she was the new number two person in the Intelligence Directorate.

That was alluring to a degree. It was maybe in the same way that he'd continued being roped into Clayton Webb's missions. There was mystery, power, danger and romance and all these things taken together were a cocktail that would naturally over-stimulate any man's mind. He sat at a corner table and waited for her.

He'd gotten there five minutes early, she was three minutes late. Not fashionably late this time. Unlike last time, Harm wasn't worried about her taking too long getting ready or about her trying to make an impression by being fashionable. She said she'd be just a couple minutes late and she was. She was dressed like she'd just come from the office, a power pantsuit and her hair smartly pulled back.

"I hope I'm not too late." Her voice didn't match her appearance. Her appearance was all business, very assertive and strident. But her voice was softer, more malleable.

"National security being what it is." Harm grinned and the waitress brought a bottle of wine over to the table.

"Making the wine selection again?" She questioned him playfully and accepted the bottle from the waitress. "Good choice."

"You took the job?" Harm inquired as the waitress poured them each a glass.

"I did. I kind of feel relieved, ya know." Nicole leaned over the table a little. "The State Department's gotten to be a little too comfortable, I guess. There's not enough challenge to it anymore."

"You've had enough with talking to the bad guys; you'd like to start shooting them?" Harm tossed a caustic joke.

"Come on, you know that 11905 and 12333 prevent us from doing things like that." She tossed back.

"Yeah, and they don't make cars in Michigan." Harm joked right along with her. "Come on, I've worked with Webb."

"My counterpart at the NCS." Nicole grinned a little. "That's a different part of the Store. You don't ask the girl in electronics what the boys in outdoor living are up to."

"I thought you guys had offices on the same floor." Harm played nervously with the cutlery on the table.

"They might as well be in different countries." Nicole assured him. "I've been told that Operations isn't any more my purview than Science and Tech or Admin is. I get information, I analyze information, I brief the Deputy Director and the Director and they brief the National Security Advisor or the President. I usually don't even do the primary analysis, that's done by analysts and Section Chiefs below me."

"I'm sure that you do a lot more than that." Harm glanced quickly down at his menu.

"I'm sure I do, too. But this is what was explained to me today." Nicole let out a sigh. "I think they're expecting me to forego time in the bullpen and start logging some big innings right off."

"You're a baseball person?" Harm perked right up.

"I might have been born in Seattle but I was raised in Brooklyn and went to college in California." She smiled brightly. "And I could never play basketball."

"Too short?" Harm joked and Nicole took mock offence, tearing off a small piece of a bread roll and tossing it at him lightly. "Yankees or Mets?"

"The Mets." She smiled. "And you?"

"The Padres, but I try to get out to Oriole games around here if I'm in a good mood on a summer weekend." Harm explained. "How did we get on to baseball?"

"I think it was a pitching metaphor." She giggled a little, bringing her fingers up to shield her lips a little. "What about you? Pentagon?"

"Yeah." Harm nodded. "Nice office in the E-Ring, legal advisor to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. It's a great job and by the time I settle in and really start swinging, I think I'll be getting challenged in ways at this job that I wasn't at JAG. I think I'll be seeing actual results from my work in a way I wasn't even seeing as a part of the fleet."

"But it's missing something?" Nicole picked up on a slight reticence in his voice.

"It's like the first day of school, ya know?" Harm shook his head. "You don't know anybody, the subject matter is all new, your superiors don't know how far they can push you, so they're pushing you as far as they can, as fast as they can."

"You're standing on the high dive looking down at the water?" Nicole smiled.

"More sports metaphors?" Harm joked.

"No, it's what every kid does when he goes swimming. He stands on the high dive and looks down at the water. He's not afraid of the jump or the swim back to the edge. He's afraid the water's too cold." Nicole explained. "You can't go back. But you're worried the water's too cold."

"I've been in cold water before." Harm normally would have been pissed but he couldn't help but feel just a little naked.

"Yeah, well don't be afraid of it this time. I stepped off the high dive today. Don't let a girl beat you into the water." She smiled a little mischievously. "Captain." She added his rank just to give him a little thrill.

0024 ZULU

ANNANDALE, VIRGINIA

Sam had been right about George Monroe. A nice older man with a quality work ethic. Nate only had to call him once from his office to set up a couple viewings of the listed properties he'd found on the web. He'd taken them through the house in Herndon first and then the two houses in Burke. Mac hadn't minded the place in Herndon but had found the houses in Burke a little cold for her liking. It wasn't surprising. Mac hadn't grown up in a neighborhood like Burke and even Nate, son of a General and a psychologist found suburban Burke a little too gated for him.

The house in Annandale though, was incredible. A two story Colonial, it had a nice porch out front and pristine green shutters on the front windows. There was a huge oak tree in the middle of the front lawn and a two car garage with wooden doors. Mac's breath was taken away. This was a serious house. Nate called it an engagement present. She'd thought her engagement present was on her finger.

George, a short, balding man with a laurel of white hair around the sides and back of his head, had his information sheet for the house in his hand. His wise, knowing expression hidden behind a set of thin-rimmed bifocals. "This Colonial was built during the boom. It's been largely remodeled over the last fifteen years. The kitchen, all three bathrooms and the laundry room have all been renovated."

"Kitchens and bathrooms." Mac lightly noted aloud.

"What's that, sweetheart?" Nate turned to face her.

"I called your mom and told her we were doing this, she said to keep an eye on kitchens and bathrooms. She said they sold houses." Mac smiled..

"A wise woman." George pushed open the front door. Nate walked across the threshold but Mac stood outside on the porch, looking up at the stars through the branches of the oak tree. Nate stopped walking and looked back to see her standing there. Her breath visible in the night sky, hovering just over her head.

"Mac?" Nate's gentle inquiry drew her attention. She smiled brilliantly at him. "I'm ready." He smiled again, and extended his arm, with his hand open, palm facing up. She clasped his hand in hers, and together they stepped into the house. She fell in love with it. It was warm. It was inviting. It was easy to see this as a place where a family would live. Where she could live with Nate.

The tour of the house didn't take long. It didn't have to. It felt like home. It felt like a place where she could go from the bed to the kitchen to the door every morning and feel like she wanted to come back to at night. It was close to JAG, reasonably close to Bud and Harriet, and on the same side of the river as all of Nate's family.

She felt the absence of the terror she had been expecting . It was supposed to have come by now. With the others it always came, rushing in quickly, reliable and predictable. Like that last insulating burst of adrenaline before the cold washes over your body.

But there was no cold.

There was no anxious tingling of her fingertips. There was no constricting or painful tightness in her chest. No need to fight within her mind and tell herself that what she was doing was right. It just… was there. In every grasp of his hand, in every delicate embrace executed around the presence of the cast on his left arm; it was there and it left no doubt that it always would be. That if a time came when she needed it…or even just wanted to wrap it around her, it would be there.

They finished the tour of the house. Mac led him down the stairs by his hand to the entry way in front of the door. "This is it." She looked up at him, eyes sparkling, happiness and excitement lighting her smile . "This is our house."

Nate smiled and kissed the top of her head. He looked over at George Monroe. "Tell the owners we want it."

"I can do that, Senator." Monroe nodded. "There's been some interest in this house, so I wouldn't recommend coming in too low with your initial offer."

"I didn't intend to." Nate grinned. "Just tell the owners we want it, George. We're going to put in an offer."


	31. Adam Raised a Cain

Their first week in the house was like any other first week after a move. You had to get used to things being in new places. Having Nate live out of her apartment for the last few months meant there was no real adjustment from learning to live with someone else. Mac found the drive from Annandale to Falls Church for work a lot easier than her drive in from Georgetown had been. Her drives home in the evening were similarly a lot more pleasant.

Nate had been away for the last four days campaigning in Iowa for Jed Bartlet. She'd wanted to go out to Iowa with him, if only to thank Jed and Abbey for their support when Nate was in the hospital. But campaign trips that occurred in the middle of the week weren't conducive to her traveling with him. This was a big house to be all alone in. But she knew that they'd both liked it because neither anticipated that they would be alone for long. She was alone in the kitchen, warming up a pizza in the oven and waiting for Nate to call before he went on stage at the University of Iowa tonight. He always said that she was his good luck charm and while she would have objected to being treated like a rabbit's foot that wasn't the impression he gave. From him, it always came across more as an attempt to include her when she couldn't be with him.

The one thing about living on this side of the river was that it greatly increased the amount of visitors they got. Beverley stopped by regularly on her way home from work to talk with Mac. Their neighbors were bringing by little housewarming gifts. Many of them commented on how nice it would be to have the Senator in the neighborhood. Mac had set a strict rule for visits; Nate wasn't allowed to talk politics for more than ten minutes.

Mac could hear the screen door open and it was followed by a loud knock. She set her pizza down on the counter and walked down the hall toward the front door. When she pulled the door open, she saw the disheveled, shivering form of Billy Ross standing before her. His left eye was beginning to swell and his body was trembling something fierce. She ushered him into the house and ran off to the closet to grab a blanket and warm him up. "You want to tell me what happened?" Mac guided him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.

"Got in a fight at school, got sent home early." Billy put the ice pack on his eye. "When my mom found out, she leaned in to me. I got angry at her. I stormed out. A buddy of mine from the football team gave me a ride out here."

"Why didn't you go to your Aunt Beverley's? It's closer." Mac took the ice pack from him and examined his eye.

"They would have called my grandparents, who would have come and got me and taken me back home." Billy explained as Mac tenderly probed the area under his eye.

"And you don't want to go back home?" Mac guessed.

"It's not just today. Me and mom are fighting all the time now. I spend a lot of time at friends' houses just to avoid going home." Billy huffed and shook his head. The phone rang in the kitchen and Mac reached over to grab it off the counter.

"Hello." Mac answered the phone.

"Evening, sweetheart." Nate's tenor tones echoed through the phone.

"Hey." Mac's voice sweetened. "How are things in the cornfields?"

"It's not like the state is one big cornfield." Nate laughed all the same. "I'm about to go on stage and warm up the crowd at the University of Iowa. How was work?"

"Good…good." Mac sounded a little wary. "Billy just showed up here."

"What? Why?" Nate's alarm had gone off. Even on the other end of the phone Mac could tell.

"Calm down." Mac cautioned him. "He says he's been fighting with his mom a lot lately and it came to a head when he got in trouble at school today."

"Alright, did you want to put him on the phone?" Nate asked, trusting Mac's judgment in a situation like this. "Should I talk to him now?"

"When are you coming home?" She asked.

"I was planning on tomorrow morning but I can make arrangements to come straight from the event to the airport tonight and catch a late flight home." Nate began to ponder. "I'll tell Sam to get me a flight."

"Billy's gonna stay here for the night while I try and get to the bottom of this, alright?" It sounded like more of a statement than a question when Mac said it.

"Well, that's up to you, sweetheart. But we'll all have a talk tomorrow morning." Nate anticipated what Mac would do. She was probably already thinking up ways to get the guest room ready.

"Alright, good luck." Mac whispered into the phone. There was a little silence. "I love you."

"Love you, too." Nate was smiling on the other end. "I'll come home safe."

0104 ZULU

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm was hunched over his desk, illuminated only by the tiny lamp on the far corner of the desk top. The question at hand for the Staff Judge Advocate for the Joint Chiefs of Staff involved the legality of inserting American military advisors on the ground in the Philippines to help that country combat terrorism but also to give the United States a set of eyes and ears on Al Qaeda's backdoor in Southeast Asia. Looking over these books and briefings he felt both young and old at the same time. The sight of a menagerie of books laid out on his desk reminded him of his Annapolis days. At the same time, he could swear that he felt grey hair growing out of his temples at a rapid rate.

At the sound of a tapping at his door, Harm raised his head. "Admiral, sir." Harm attempted to come to attention but Admiral Fitzwallace waved him down.

"Stand easy, Captain." The Admiral entered Harm's office. "I thought I was the only person who wasn't on the janitorial staff who still walked around this place at this time of night."

"I just wanted to finish up the work on my end for the Philippines, sir." Harm explained. "We're talking with DoJ and the White House Counsel tomorrow morning before you guys bring your options to the President tomorrow afternoon."

"I appreciate the hard work, son, I really do, but you could do this at your house." Admiral Fitzwallace chuckled to himself.

"Not necessarily, sir. Some of this stuff is classified; the MPs would take me down before I left the building." Harm added a joke all his own and the two men shared a laugh.

"Could have just done that stuff first." The Admiral offered.

"I was hoping I'd be done by now, sir." Harm returned to his work, ever conscious of his superior's presence.

"What's going through your head?" Fitzwallace asked.

"How much easier this would be if we still had the base at Subic Bay." Harm answered honestly. "I'm also half interested to know why an administration would get into this in an election year. It seems counterintuitive to me."

"What would you do?" The Admiral was looking for some insight into his new JAG's way of thinking.

"Sir, as a military officer it makes sense. I mean, you put the troops on the ground in a way that we've never been able to really do in a place like say Colombia and you give them good legal cover for being there as well as defined rules of engagement." Harm's pen stopped scratching for a second. "But in addition to clarifying legalities, we've got people working on force depletion; the Counsel's office is working out the press policy for Dover Air Force Base and I'm wondering why the hell they'd want to risk that in an election year."

"Captain, you might be too smart for your own good." The Admiral laughed to himself. "It's not our job to set policy; it's our job to execute policy. You're right, the politics of this situation is awkward but there's a reason that you and I aren't paid to be political. The decisions we make and the work we do has to be accurate and unbiased because if it isn't a lot of people could end up dead who shouldn't. You want a nickel's worth of free advice?"

"Only a nickel, sir?" Harm grinned. The Admiral laughed.

"Ignore the politics. Focus on the questions that aren't above your pay rate." The Admiral inched back toward the door. "That was two pieces of advice, so maybe it was a dime's worth." Harm laughed and the Admiral put his hand on the doorknob. "Goodnight, Captain."

"Goodnight, sir." Harm waved politely and the Admiral closed the door behind him. His new job had come with a new security clearance and the JCS badge hung on the breast pocket of his uniform jacket increased his personal intimidation factor. It also gave him access to places and people that actually had the power to make decisions in this town. Even being out of what Tom Boone had called 'the Real Navy' it was self-satisfying to know that he was having a more tangible impact with the part of his brain that he'd honed in law school and used for years at JAG.

Harm finished off his mug of coffee and polished off his conclusions for tomorrow's meeting that he was going to have to attend. There was always going to be some trick to presenting the options here. If the rules of engagement were written too loosely then American troops could be drawn too quickly into the affairs of the Filipino military. If they were drawn too strictly, then the American troops would be sitting ducks for the very adversaries they would be in country to combat. After Vietnam, the military establishment was usually opposed to doing things by half and any mention of "advisors" was sure to conjure up old ghosts. Particularly if those advisors were being implanted into a country in Southeast Asia.

Harm secured his office for the night and headed home. He came to the checkpoint and produced his security pass. "Goodnight, Charlie." Harm nodded at the MP Sergeant who was on guard.

"Goodnight, Captain." The Sergeant nodded with a smile. Harm headed through the parking lot. At least the Pentagon was closer to home than JAG had been.

1114 ZULU

MAC'S HOUSE

ANNANDALE, VIRGINIA

Nate had made it home by 1:10 in the morning. He'd flown by private plane out of Iowa City to Dulles and his Senate-designated driver picked him up at the airport and took him home. He undressed and slid in next to Mac for just under five hours sleep before he'd be back up and ready to tackle duty at the office again. He'd felt bad waking his driver up just to drive him home from the airport, but if Mac found out that he'd attempted to drive with his bad arm, the temperatures in rural Iowa in January would have been no match for the temperatures in his living room.

6:05am came faster than he expected. Nate rolled over and pounded the top of the alarm clock. He sat up to find Mac already getting dressed. "There's no way you went for a run already?" Nate rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"0500, Senator." Mac smiled at him as she nestled her skirt around her hips. "How was Iowa?" She asked as Nate got up from the bed and snuggled up behind her.

"Missed you." He kissed her neck. "Terribly." He took a small pride in the blush that crept to Mac's cheeks.

"I meant the campaign." Mac insisted.

"The Iowa numbers are tight. Hoynes' refusal to take the ethanol pledge at the Corn Growers convention put him, Jed and Senator Wiley in a three-way heat." He wrapped his good arm around Mac's middle.

"You expect me to put my uniform on over your arm?" She tossed sarcastically.

"I'll go start breakfast." Nate padded out of the room and down the stairs. He remembered slowly why he'd come home early instead of hanging out for a voter registration drive this morning on the U of I campus. His nephew would probably be up soon and then he and Mac would get the whole story from him before deciding what to do. Nate flipped on the burners, cracked a few eggs and put some bacon in the pan. At least he wouldn't have to put up with hotel cooking for another morning.

Mac was the next person down the stairs. She opened the door and grabbed her fiancé's copy of the _Washington Post_ off the welcome mat before joining him in the kitchen. "Smells good." Mac tossed the paper on to the table.

"We're lucky this is the meal of the day I know how to make." Nate smiled and started chopping a few vegetables for their omelets. "Otherwise it'd be cold cereal."

"Nothing wrong with some Frosted Flakes now and then." Mac flipped on the coffee maker. For a Marine, Nate's coffee wasn't quite strong enough. But he'd never been through the Parris Island experience. He'd been an officer the whole time and the son of one to boot. Mac was in charge of the coffee, which she knew how to make so that it had the relative potency of motor oil.

A few moments later they were joined in the kitchen by the somber, bed-head ridden face of Nate's nephew. "Morning, guys." The teenager half mumbled as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Good morning." Nate slid a plate in front of the teenager, and Billy released one hand from his tangled nest of hair to pick up his fork and eat. The adults finished preparing breakfast and coffee before joining him at the table.

"So, I hear you had some excitement yesterday." Nate sat across from his nephew.

"It was nothing, it was stupid." Billy shrugged. "A kid at school made fun of my buddy Darren because he found out he was gay. So, I tuned him up a little."

"Took a pretty fair tuning yourself." Nate indicated Billy's eye which was by now a mélange of shades of black, blue and purple.

"I gave better than I got. Isn't that how the General says you judge whether you won the fight?" Billy attempted a joke only to look up and find his uncle wasn't laughing.

"Not if it gets you kicked out of school." Nate took a sip from his coffee.

"Billy, tell your uncle what you told me last night." Mac jumped in to try and keep the two of them from butting heads.

"It's just…" The teenager shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "It seems like all mom and I do is fight now. It's always something, every time I come home. I've been sleeping over at my friends' houses a lot lately."

"Well, that's not good." Nate looked deep in Mac's eyes. He could see her trying to formulate a solution to the problem. "I'll tell you what, kiddo. You get ready for school, you can ride in the car with me and I'll drop you off on my way to work. I'll talk to your mom."

"Thanks, Uncle Nate." Billy slid his chair out from the table. "And thanks, Aunt Mac." The kid chimed as he disappeared down the hall toward the stairs.

"What the hell am I going to do?" Nate got up from the table and took his dishes, and the kid's, over to the sink.

Mac hesitated for a second. "Situations like this are never good." She put a hand on Nate's back as he stood over the counter. "Initially, I'm sure she was thankful he was there to protect her from Stephen. But now, five months on, she's blaming him for the breakup of her marriage. It's not uncommon."

"You've been spending too much time with my mother." Nate laughed sarcastically. "You've got some experience with this kind of stuff. Any ideas?"

"When I got in trouble, when I was a kid, I went a lived with my Uncle Matt for a while. It straightened me out." Mac began to explain.

"Mac…" Nate shook his head. "We've got a lot on our plate already. We both work. We're planning a wedding…"

"Which between Harriet, Beverley, the Admiral and your mother we already have plenty of help with." Mac countered.

"We just moved into a new house." Nate added.

"But we lived together for months, so only the location is really different." Mac countered again.

"And there's the Presidential campaign." Nate closed with his strongest card. That was always the context in which it was raised. There was no guarantee Bartlet would win, no guarantee he would even ask Nate in the event that he did become the Democratic nominee. But both looked like strong possibilities right now. But it did have the effect of paralyzing every long term plan except the wedding.

"He's a good kid, he'd enjoy the travel and you know that." Mac countered.

Nate folded his arms in front of his chest and looked at her. He knew she was right. She knew she was right. He nodded. "I'll talk to Lily."

"You're a good man." She lightly kissed him.

"And behind every one of us is a good woman." He answered with a smile.

1627 ZULU

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Captain, I heard you knocked'em dead in that meeting." Admiral Wilson, the Chief of Naval Operations stuck his head into Harm's office and Harm sprung to his feet.

"I just presented what information I had, sir." Harm smiled nervously as the four star entered his office.

"You're much too modest, Captain. You'd better stop that. In this town people might try and take credit for your work." The Admiral was a shorter, lanky man with a thick salt and pepper cut on his head. "I also wouldn't get too used to four stars coming to _your_ office."

"No, sir." Harm laughed. "Usually when Admiral Chegwidden summoned me to his office it wasn't for congratulations."

"AJ is a taskmaster." Admiral Wilson allowed himself a laugh. "I suppose you know that I'm going up to the White House with the rest of the Chiefs this afternoon. The brass wants an update on our early work on the question in the Philippines."

"Yes, sir, my briefing is on Admiral Fitzwallace's desk from this morning's conference." Harm nodded. "You didn't come over here from the Navy Yard just to congratulate me, sir."

"No, Captain, I didn't." Wilson tapped the chair idly with his Academy ring. "Admiral Fitzwallace likes to pow-wow with all the Chiefs before he takes a recommendation into the Situation Room. He wants us presenting a united front."

"That doesn't get in the way of good information, sir?" Harm wondered as he took a seat on the receiving side of his desk, next to Admiral Wilson.

"Captain, just because we tend to agree on a course of action doesn't mean we stop thinking on our feet." Admiral Wilson raised an ankle up on to his knee. "You just sat with the DoJ and White House Counsel and passed on your conclusions to Admiral Fitzwallace. Do you know more now than before you did that?"

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded tentatively.

"Another pair of eyes never hurts, Captain." Admiral Wilson's eyes glanced down at his watch. "Now, Captain, I wanted to drop by with this." The Admiral reached into his jacket and produced a bottle of Glenmorangie. "There are gonna be days you want one of these kicking around the office."

"Yes, sir." Harm took the bottle and walked it over to his bookcase on the starboard wall. "Thank you, sir."

"Now, Captain, Admiral Fitzwallace and I were headed to J&G Steakhouse before we headed up to the White House. You're free to join us, if you're not too busy." Admiral Wilson got up out of his chair.

"Two four-stars offer you lunch, I think you have to go, sir." Harm stuck a few files into his desk and joined Admiral Wilson by his office door.

"So, have you been cornered by any of the Capital yentas, yet?" Admiral Wilson waited for Harm to lock his office door.

"Capital yentas, sir?" Harm asked as they headed for the Chairman's office.

"There's a group of Capital wives, you know the type. Late fifties, early sixties, country-clubbers with nothing better to do than to try and set up their daughters with fast-tracked officers." The Admiral laughed. "Just a word to the wise, avoid General Fillman's wife." Admiral Wilson indicated the Army Chief of Staff. "She got her oldest in with the last man to hold your post."

"No one's told me anything about my predecessor, sir." Harm restrained a laugh.

"All you need to know is this." Wilson looked up over his right shoulder at Harm. "He's now married to Susan Fillman and he went from your job right up to being the Judge Advocate General of the Army."

"Does that qualify as a Washington dowry, sir?" Harm chanced a joke and was greeted with an uproarious laugh from Admiral Wilson.

"That's a good one, Rabb." Wilson's face was a bright crimson. "You mind if I use that some time?"

"Not at all, sir." The two of them stopped in Admiral Fitzwallace's outer office, in front of his yeoman.

"Chief, is the Admiral in?" Wilson took the lead.

"Yes, sir, Admiral Wilson. He's just finishing up a call with Senator Keegan for next week's appropriation hearing." The Yeoman nodded. "Should I buzz him, sir?"

"No, Chief, it's not time sensitive. Just tell him his lunch companions are here." Wilson and Harm took a seat in the Chairman's outer office. "It's appropriations time again."

"Seems like it always is, sir." Harm put his cover in his lap.

"I hear that you were a bit of an appropriations whiz for AJ during your time at JAG." Wilson slowly changed the topic.

"I think I acquitted myself alright, sir." Harm nodded slowly.

"Modesty again, Captain." Wilson shook his head. "If you're up to it, I might just have to shanghai you to work with my staff when it's my turn to go up and get grilled on the Hill."

"So long as you're facing the Senators and not me, sir." Harm chuckled.

"Well, we've got some allies up there." Wilson let the laughter die for a few seconds.

Admiral Fitzwallace appeared through the door to his inner office. "Tom." The Chairman greeted the Chief. "And Captain Rabb, I hear you're headed out with us."

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded and shook the Chairman's hand.

"Well good." Fitzwallace smiled.

"Your yeoman says you were on with Keegan." Admiral Wilson interjected as the three officers headed for the door. "Taking the barometer of the White House?"

"Our Captain here apparently gave the boys in the Counsel's office some serious backchat about the Philippines this morning. Ruffled a few feathers." Fitzwallace gave Harm a pat on the back.

"Just doing my job, sir." Harm grinned.

"Again, with the modesty." Admiral Wilson shook his head. "I though fighter jocks were all ego?"

2301 ZULU

RUSSELL SENATE OFFICE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

Nate had just finished up a talk with a few of the other members of the Defense Appropriations subcommittee. His last of the day. The Democratic leadership had gone to the ends of the earth to put his foreign policy experience to as much use as humanly possible. Appropriations time was the time of year where the Senate actually seemed to start getting work done. Most of it was Senators shoe-horning pork projects on to bills to grease the electoral skids.

Mac was trying to keep him to working shorter days while his arm was still healing. He was ready to tear the plaster off with his fingernails. At this rate, he was sure he'd kill himself in the next three weeks before the doctor had a chance to cut the plaster off. His head popped up when the door to his office opened. "What's up, Sam?" Nate leaned back in his chair.

"Just wanted to give you a quick update. Bruno says the war chest is over 25 million." Sam looked down at the finance report. "Latest polling numbers…"

"…ten months from election day." Nate tossed as a joke.

"Latest polling numbers have you winning by sixteen points." Sam turned the page over. "So, we at least know we'll likely have this job next year."

"Reassuring." Nate grinned. "Give me Iowa."

"Wiley 31, Bartlet 30, Hoynes 28." Sam read off the second page.

"A three way dead heat." Nate sighed. "Well, we wouldn't be Democrats if there wasn't chaos somewhere."

"That's about the size of it." Sam laughed. "Lily's waiting to talk to you."

Nate paused before thumping his palms on his desktop. "Yeah, send her in."

Sam walked out the door and was followed just seconds later by Lily walking in. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, your son slept at my house last night." Nate got up from behind the desk.

"I know. He called." Lily answered quickly.

"He says the two of you have been fighting a lot lately." Nate sat on the front edge of his desk and folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Why is this any of your business?" Lily protested.

"Because he got in a fight at school and showed up at my house needing a place to stay so I had to fly halfway across the continent." Nate shot back quickly. "Now, what's going on?"

"It's nothing." She shrugged. "It's just, with Simon and Owen being so much younger and none of them going to the same place every morning or coming home at the same time every night, it's just taxing. And there's work, and you know how teenagers can be."

"Listen; there are days I desperately want to kill my brother for what he did. Today's probably one of them but this clearly isn't working." Nate shook his head. "You're no good to your kids, to Sam or to me if you're stressed out. Your kids in particular. Mac made a suggestion this morning and I think it's a good one but I'll leave it up to you. She thinks it would be good if Billy could come and stay with us for a while. I can drop him off on my way into work; we've certainly got the room at the house."

"Nate, I couldn't ask you to do that." Lily shook her head.

"You didn't. We're offering." Nate assured her. "If there's a campaign this summer, he'd probably really enjoy the travel."

"And he'd have another man to talk to." Lily nodded. There was a pause, a kind of neutral stiffness in the air. "He's still my baby boy, ya know?"

"I know." Nate nodded. "He's a good kid. But the next couple of years are gonna be rough with college and everything."

"And he's already dating, I'm always worried I'm gonna come back to the apartment and find him with a girl." Lily laughed nervously. "I don't know what goes on in the mind of a teenage boy."

"I do, and trust me; it's not much of a comfort." Nate joked. "And someday you're going to want to start dating again and that's probably going to cause some tension."

"I just don't want to start a pattern." Lily explained. "I don't want it to be like I get the kids to fifteen and then I need a man to take over."

"Let me tell you something." Nate tried to soothe her concerns. "Until I was about fourteen, my dad was deployed all the time. A lot of it was Vietnam but there was other stuff, too. When he got home, I didn't know how to react to him. Having dad home always seemed more like a vacation then a permanent thing. I chafed a little under the yoke. But my mom has always thought I needed my dad for those years before I went off to college. She could have done it, I don't doubt that. But having him around definitely helped her and me a lot more."

Lily shook her head. "You must be something else on the campaign trail." She smiled. "Let me break it to him when I get home tonight?"

"Of course." Nate nodded. Lily got up and walked for the door. "Lily!" Nate raised his voice and she turned to face him. "Whatever happens, you'll always be his mother."

She gave him a small, somewhat sad smile and closed the door behind her.


	32. Worlds Apart

"When's the State Dinner?" Mac looked up from the wedding plans sprawled on the table.

"Friday, Mac." Nate shuffled into the kitchen and flipped on the coffee maker.

"Am I going to need a dress?" Mac looked stressed. Nate slid in behind her and started rubbing her shoulders.

"Mac, you have a few dresses that would be perfectly fine." Nate tried to calm her down. "It's the King of Jordan, Mac, not the Pope."

"Have you met him?" Mac looked over her shoulder.

"Abdullah? A couple times." Nate nodded. "When he was studying at Georgetown in the '80s and I was at Princeton we met at a few common Academic conferences. And of course we met while I was at State."

"So, we're probably going to end up talking to the King and Queen of Jordan at some point?" Mac reached for his hand on her shoulder.

"As well as the President and First Lady of the United States, I'm sure." Nate sat at the table next to her. "Why are you nervous? It's not like it's the first time we've gone out to a big event."

"Those were DNC fundraisers, not even CNN pays attention to those." Mac countered. "This is a State Dinner; every major news service in the world is going to be there. It's going to be the first time I walk into the spotlight wearing…" Her voice kind of trailed off.

"The Ring? Don't worry; it won't cause nine black specters on horseback to chase after you. Unless the Secret Service is feeling particularly humorous." Nate joked and Mac playfully smacked him across the shoulder.

"We've talked about this before." Mac tried to explain. "You take to the spotlight very easily. I never have. You're the golden boy; the media loves you even when you screw up. Nobody even brings up that fistfight you and Harm got into at Mayport last spring."

"That was one punch." Nate groaned.

"That would have torpedoed anyone else's career." Mac pointed out. "They're going to have expectations of the kind of woman you go into public with and this ring is only going to make them crazy, we'll be a lead story on CNN."

"Who told you that?" Nate furrowed his brow.

"CJ." Mac answered. "The way she explained it made sense. The role you've played in the campaign. Jed put up a strong showing in Iowa, won New Hampshire and placed second in South Carolina. You've helped him raise money, you've been on camera with the campaign everyday, and you're a political rising star. The media giveth and the media taketh away. And in this case, they taketh away our privacy." Mac looked up into his eyes. "And why did you stop rubbing my shoulders?" Nate smiled, got up and stood behind her.

"Mac, it's not that tough." Nate tried to reassure her. "They're going to focus on you as a Marine, as a beautiful woman, as a lawyer, as an American of Persian descent."

"As the daughter of an abusive drunk, as an alcoholic, as a woman who was charged in the murder of her first husband." Mac pointed out.

"You were acquitted of that charge and as for the rest of it; the media loves a good Snow White story as much as the country does." Nate argued.

"I thought the term was 'Cinderella' story." Mac eyed him suspiciously.

"It is, but then I remembered that Cinderella was a blonde." Nate joked and he saw a smile creep through Mac's seriousness. "Sarah, nothing the media or the Democratic Party or my family or the King of Jordan or the President of the United States can say is going to change the way I feel about you. Now, I'm going to get dressed in my best white tie, you wear whatever you like, we're going to go, we're going to dance until our feet are sore. Abbey and Jed will be there, so we'll have some non-boring people to talk to as well."

"The Governor of New Hampshire gets invited to State Dinners?" Mac asked.

"Not usually. But every Senator does and Hoynes is going so to keep the dinner politically neutral, Jed had to be invited." Nate stopped rubbing Mac's shoulders. "Now, how's the wedding coming along?"

"Thank God I can delegate." Mac smiled and leaned back in her chair. "We'd be weeks behind by now otherwise. We've got the location and date set down."

"Had that for a month already." Nate pointed out. "My sister's church for the ceremony and the Hay-Adams for the reception. I still can't believe we got the hotel on that much notice."

"Senator from Virginia." Mac pointed out. "Sometimes being the media golden boy helps. What would I ever do without you?" She grabbed his housecoat and pulled him in for a kiss. "But the food options at the hotel are just too much. I narrow them down, then I send them up to the Admiral who narrows them down further and I get to the final options."

"AJ?" Nate asked.

"He did it for Harriet's wedding. Thank God he volunteered here, too. I'd gain ten pounds just taste-testing." Mac made a few more notes.

"Where pray tell would this ten pounds be added, Colonel?" Nate made an effort to attempt to look down the non-existent neckline of her t-shirt. Mac playfully whacked him in the chest.

"Hey, teenager present." Billy entered the kitchen.

"Hey nothing." Nate shot over his shoulder. "Your homework done?"

"Do you realize how many AP courses I'm taking this semester?" Billy opened the fridge searching for the Orange Juice.

"Do you realize how many I took at your age?" Nate reminded him. "You want to go to Annapolis, it's the hardest school in the country to get into because unlike the private schools, the Academy isn't going to care who _I_ am."

"Alright, alright." Billy raised his hands. "My homework's done."

"Remember our agreement. Your GPA better be at least 3.7 if you want to tryout for the lacrosse team this spring." Mac turned around in her chair. "And that's a hard 3.7."

"Was the General this tough on you?" Billy looked to his uncle.

"Tougher." Nate told him with a smile. "It was 4.0 or bust in your grandfather's house. I came home in first semester of sophomore year with a 3.9 and heard about it for three months."

"You whip the horse that runs the fastest, honey." Mac pecked him on the cheek.

"Whips? Guys, come on. Teenager in the room" Billy groaned.

1516 ZULU

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm looked up from his latest stack of briefing papers. His yeoman buzzed him on the intercom. "Captain, sir, Admiral Wilson on line one for you."

"Thank you, Petty Officer." Harm punched the intercom and then looked down at his phone. He lifted the receiver and punched the 'Line 1' button. "Admiral, nice to hear from you, sir."

"Glad to hear you're not lost under the paperwork over there, Captain." Tom Wilson cheered. "Listen, I've come across a couple tickets for the State Dinner reception for King Abdullah of Jordan on Friday. I can't go because, well…between you and me, Captain, I'd rather be back in the Hanoi Hilton than hobnob with Congress for an evening."

"I understand, sir." Harm laughed at Admiral Wilson's comment. The Admiral had been a swift boat commander on the Mekong in Vietnam. He'd been captured and taken prisoner for two years. So, this was not a man to use that experience lightly when stating the degree of banality he'd experience at this dinner. He was also a four star and the CNO; he didn't need to kiss anyone's ass any more. "Why pass them along to me? I'm sure that someone over at the Navy Yard would use them."

"Captain, you're a single man in Washington, this promises to be a social event that will absolutely get you in the good graces of any young woman you decide to take." Admiral Wilson explained.

"Have any suggestions, sir?" Harm chuckled.

"Yes, don't let General Fillman know that you have the tickets. He's still got two more daughters." Tom Wilson explained with a laugh. "Or in the event that he hears about them, try to avoid eye contact."

"Yes, sir." Harm laughed. "Thank you for thinking of me, sir."

"Not a problem, Captain." Admiral Wilson hung up the phone. Harm relaxed back in his chair and leaned his chin on his palm. Harm wondered whether to call Nicole or not. They'd been out on dates, it was nothing too serious. It was something fun, maybe the nature of their jobs, the fact they were both starting new jobs at about the same time had made juggling their schedules particularly difficult.

"Petty Officer Garcia." Harm punched his intercom. "I need you to call Langley and get me the Associate Deputy Director for Intelligence. When you get the switchboard be sure to tell them it's the Staff Judge Advocate for the Joint Chiefs."

"Yes, sir." Petty Officer Garcia answered. Harm liked Garcia as a sailor. A lot of yeomen were just adept pencil-pushers, kept out of active duty by the brass because their effective use in a combat unit would be minimal. Garcia had been assigned to Harm after being wounded as a field medic in Afghanistan. His injury made it impossible to return to combat. So, Harm had a natural common ground with the young Petty Officer. "Sir, Miss DiPiccio on line one."

"Thanks, Garcia." Harm turned his attention to the phone again. "Am I speaking with Associate Deputy Director DiPiccio?"

"Yes, Captain Rabb." Her delicate mezzo tone rang through the phone. "And what can I do for you?"

"As I'm sure you're aware, the King of Jordan is being received in a State function at the White House on Friday. I just got a couple tickets handed to me by Admiral Wilson and I was wondering if you might accompany me." Harm grinned into the receiver.

"Well, it turns out, Captain, that I too have a pair of tickets. I was considering passing them down to my Near East Section Chief but I suppose that I can do this without regret now that you've asked." Nicole was biting her lower lip.

"So, you'll go?" Harm double-checked.

"Absolutely. But I guess I'll have to find something to wear." She couldn't help the small giggle that escaped her lips. "I'm guessing you'll be in Mess Dress?"

"If I remember my protocol correctly, it's Formal Dress blue with a white tie but I'll check in with Admiral Fitzwallace." Harm smiled to himself. It had been a while since he'd been to the White House, not since the end of the Three Wise Men project. "Have you ever been to a State Dinner before?"

"A couple NATO Balls and one Gridiron Club. You?" Nicole inquired.

"Never." Harm shook his head, a gesture that likely went unnoticed on the phone.

"I'm sure there's some Protocol Officer I can talk to here to find out exactly what the scheduling is for something like this." Nicole idly tapped the desk. "So, you're getting on well with Admiral Wilson?"

"Tom Wilson's a good guy. I've never met a Texan in this man's Navy who wasn't a friendly type." Harm commented. "Not really sure why he's taken a liking to me."

"I heard you've been read-in on the Philippines." Nicole stated and she was greeted by silence on the other end of the phone. "Harm, this is a Secure Telephone Unit, the NSA isn't listening in."

"I have been." Harm affirmed.

"I heard you got into a bit of sword crossing with a few people in the Counsel's office." Nicole commented idly.

"The CIA has ears everywhere, huh?" Harm chuckled. "I don't think I made any friends that day, that's probably safe to say."

"You have to understand, you're not a political appointee. Your future isn't tied to the successes and failures of either political party but you're going to be spending a lot more time with people whose futures are. That's the hardest time most military personnel have when they're assigned to a ranking post in this city." Nicole tried to explain without appearing condescending. "It's an evolution a lot of them are never really comfortable with. Yours is a profession where the most important thing is what is good. In this city, you'll find a lot of people whose most important aim is to achieve that which only makes them look good."

There was a silence. Harm wasn't sure how they'd gotten on to this but he wanted to return to something happier. "I'll see you Friday night?"

"Absolutely." She cheerily replied.

Harm hung up the phone and smiled to himself. Harm wondered when the last time was he'd even worn his Formal dress blues.

2330 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

Nate was dressed in his white tie and tails. He stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Mac. His driver was sitting outside with the car idling. Mac came down the stairs in a jaw dropping ivory shaded number with a single strap that came around the back of her neck and a neckline that was just low enough to be eyebrow raising but not low enough to be scandalous to a sane person.

"You look…" Nate stammered looking for an adjective.

"Thank you." Mac flushed a slight pink in her cheeks. "Not half bad yourself, Senator."

"I'll look but a peasant next to you, sweetheart." Nate gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"Ewwww." Billy commented as he passed them on his way to the kitchen.

"Wait a second, young man." Mac called after her soon-to-be nephew. "Is your homework done?"

"Yes, mom." Billy tossed sarcastically.

"You know the rules." Nate told him seriously. "You're allowed two friends over while we're out, no more. No parties, no drinking, everyone on their way home by 11pm."

"I know, I know." Billy nodded. "No drinking, no smoking in the house and try to keep the noise down and be respectful of the neighbors. One question, can I have Kelly over?"

"Kelly who?" Mac asked.

"New girl just transferred into school from Connecticut. She wants me to help her get caught up on some of the work." Billy had that sly grin they'd learned to be wary of, growing at one corner of his mouth.

"Uh huh." Nate eyed his nephew suspiciously. He looked to Mac who gave him a very slight nod. "Fine. But be smart and treat her with respect."

"Yes, sir." Billy gave his uncle a nod and headed for the kitchen.

"Now, shall we depart?" Nate extended his arm to Mac who took it and they headed for the front door. The two of them walked through the front door and Nate held the door open to the car so that Mac could climb in first. They rarely took his driver anywhere they went together. Nate climbed in, straightened his tie and punched the open intercom button to call the driver.

"Burke, the White House if you would be so kind." Nate smiled.

"Yes, sir." The voice answered back from the front of the car.

"Nathan, be nice." Mac scolded gently. "Is this what you're like on your way to work?"

"I'm a terribly important guy." Nate grinned mawkishly. "But, my dear, any day of my life will I play a willing second fiddle to you." She reached for his hand and placed it in her lap. "You make me stronger."

"No." She shook her head as they looked into each other's eyes. "We make each other stronger."

The two of them passed much of the drive into DC in silence. He left work at work and so did she. At home, they dealt with the wedding and Billy and any decisions that they had between them. When they discussed his acting on behalf of the Campaign, or in front of the media, they did so with the understanding that Mac wasn't to be utilized as the traditional political spouse. She wasn't a political tool or a crucial element of his personality, necessary to humanize him. None of that changed the fact that she was a political spouse.

The car pulled up to the ellipse off E Street. Nate was out of the car first and he helped Mac out of her side. Yes, there was a C-SPAN and CNN camera present as he helped her out. But, neither camera earned as much as a smile or wink from the Junior Senator from Virginia. He and Mac breezed simply and quickly past the camera and up the receiving carpet to the White House. "First test, passed." Mac's quick whisper earned her a smile from Nate. They were guided by the Chief Usher through the White House to the Yellow Oval Room where the informal reception was taking place. They were guided into the room on the second floor and received by the President and First Lady.

"Mr. President, Madam First Lady, may I introduce Sarah MacKenzie." Nate indicated to Mac who extended her hand to the host and hostess.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir, and ma'am." Mac went into Marine mode.

"Nathan, she's charming." Lorraine Russell smiled affectionately at her guests.

"She's programmed into Marine mode, ma'am." Nate recognized it instantly. The President ushered them over to the door that led to the Truman balcony.

"Nathan, Sarah, may I introduce you to Their Royal Majesties the King and Queen of Jordan." The President began introductions. "King Abdullah, Queen Rania, may I introduce Senator Nathan Ross of Virginia and his fiancée, Sarah MacKenzie."

Nate and Mac shook hands with the royal couple. "I do not know if the Senator remembers, but he and I met at a graduate student symposium at Harvard when were both graduate students." The King eyed Nathan questioningly.

"I wasn't aware that I made an impression, sir." Nate grinned. "But yes, I remember."

"I was unaccustomed to being greeted in Arabic during my time in America and Mr. Ross managed to do so without making it seem token." The King smiled. Mac, finally able to overcome her shock, rambled a quick greeting in Arabic. The King smiled fondly. "Another impression made."

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." Mac was embarrassed. "I'm so, so…"

"Do not worry." The Queen of Jordan waved to Mac. "Is this your first State Dinner?"

"Yes." Mac nodded.

"It can take quite a while to become comfortable." The Queen was very reassuring.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, it's just that. Well, I'm a lawyer and I think I rely on words so often that it's terrifying to be without them." Mac let out a rueful chuckle and earned an affectionate gaze from everyone standing there and a side along hug from her fiancé. There were a few more words exchanged before the remainder of the usual guests went downstairs so that the receiving line could start in the Entrance Hall.

"I felt so stupid." Mac shook her head.

"I wish there was something I could have done." Nate whispered to her. "But I didn't want to jump in and try to take over for you. I was afraid you'd think I was being patronizing if I did that." Mac grasped him a little tighter. "I'll never treat you as anything less than an equal, Mac."

"It's just." Mac looked around. They were surrounded by far more guests than the select group that had been upstairs earlier for the informal reception. "You have to understand, where I came from and where I grew up, to be here is just something I don't think there's an easy way to adjust to. It's almost like being on another planet."

"What are you worried about?" Nate looked her straight in the eye.

"That they'll know. That they'll look at me and they'll know that I don't belong in a room with all these people on a night like this." Mac stammered an explanation. She saw a quick fire flash behind Nate's eyes. He took her hands gently.

"Listen to me. There isn't a person in this room who's better than you. I don't care where they came from. Life isn't about where you come from; it's about what you do with it. You aren't scared little Sarah hiding from her father anymore and you aren't the confused young woman cut adrift in the world by neglectful parents." He stopped for a second and shook his head. "If I could…listen, when I see the pain in your eyes every time you think about it, I swear to you that there isn't a single thing I want more in the world to be able to go back to that time and that place and rescue that girl. But every time I have that thought, I remember that past made you the woman you are today. And there isn't a human on the planet I'd rather have in the foxhole with me."

Mac's eyes watered a little. Okay, maybe it was a black Lincoln Town Car and not a steed and maybe he wore a suit of wool instead of armor, but he did a damned handy Prince Charming imitation when the moment took him. She reached up and pulled him into a tight hug. "You have to be the sweetest man I know." She pursed her lips. Over Nate's shoulder, she saw Harm walk in wearing his dress blues with a woman on his arm. Over Mac's shoulder, Nate saw the familiar forms of Jed and Abbey Bartlet.

"Jed!" Nate called, sorry to break the moment. The Bartlets walked over, glad for the company of some genuine people. Mac turned around to face their friends.

"Sarah, dear, your eyes are a little red." Abbey looked concerned. "Are you feeling alright?"

Mac smiled to herself. She could think back to situations like this over the last several years. How easy it would have been to look over her shoulder at the other man in the room, the other man in her life. But she looked up into the eyes of the man on her left. "I'm feeling whole." Mac smiled. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Good." Abbey smiled. "Well, you look fantastic."

"So do you, I wish I had your highlights." Mac complimented.

"I wish I had your skin." Abbey went right back.

"I heard about South Carolina and Michigan." Nate shook hands with Jed.

"Yeah, thanks for the last minute help in Michigan." Jed nodded. "I'm starting to worry that I might win."

"For you it's a worry, for the rest of us it's a hope." Nate commented and the two of them shared a quick laugh.

Across the room, Harm and Nicole were greeted by the Pentagon and CIA groups which tended to evade the politicians like the viper does the mongoose.

"Captain!" Admiral Fitzwallace walked over with his wife Gail by his side. "Captain Rabb, this is my wife, Gail. Sweetheart, this is the new shyster I've told you so much about."

Harm couldn't help but laugh at that. "I'm trying to improve the reputation of lawyers one step at a time, ma'am."

"He's going to have a long road to hoe." Nicole added to the conversation.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Harm covered. "Admiral and Mrs. Fitzwallace, this is Nicole DiPiccio."

"I've heard that name before." Fitzwallace's gaze narrowed. "You're Mike Bradley's Number Two, at Other Governmental Agencies."

"Kind of makes me sound like an Austin Powers character." Nicole laughed. "I can neither confirm nor deny that."

"Of course you can't." The Admiral laughed. "Going across the hall for help, Mr. Rabb?"

"I'm never going to hear the end of this at work am I?" Harm grinned.

"Well, I'll probably drop it after about a week but I can't speak for Admiral Wilson." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs joined his wife in a laugh. "I'll do what I can to try and keep the information out of the hands of the Army and Air Force Chiefs of Staff. But the CIA delegation is headed this way."

Nicole looked over her shoulder to see her bosses headed their way. "See, now leaving the safe confines of the office doesn't kill you, Nicole." Mike Bradley cheered as the CIA group walked over.

"I know, but this fresh air thing is very overrated." Nicole joked lightly. "Who's manning the store tonight?"

"Clayton drew the short straw." The CIA Director stepped up. "Admiral, it's nice to see you outside the Situation Room."

"Orville, it kind of scares me that you even noticed." The Admiral chuckled to himself. "Big week coming up this week."

"Yeah." The Admiral looked at his new Staff JAG. "I think we're gonna be calling you out of the bullpen again but this time you're going to be heading up to talk to the majority Counsel for the Select Committee on Intelligence. The White House wants to start reading in friendly members of the Senate."

"Sir, I respect your confidence." Harm reached for a couple flutes of champagne on a passing tray. "But I don't think I'm in the mood to talk work tonight."

"Nothing bad about that." The Admiral smiled. "How do your Padres look this season?"

"If they could get some reliable arms, they might be alright." Harm sipped some champagne. He caught a look at Nicole out of the corner of his eye. She was rapt in conversation with her colleagues from Langley. They were here together, but as with Renee, they didn't really seem to be together. She was with her people and he was with his. Harm looked across the room, to a different table. There he saw Mac sitting, as always, with Nate. With them were Governor Bartlet and his wife. They didn't seem forced into awkward conversation; in fact it looked to Harm as though the Governor had just told a great joke that caused the entire table to erupt with laughter.

When the President got up to dance with the First Lady and after the King and Queen took to the floor, Nate and Mac were the next ones up. They were positioned as far away from the cameras as possible but completely lost to anyone else in the world. As the crowd moved on to the floor, that pairing, joined together, faded from his sight.


	33. 57 Channels And Nothin' On

Saturday was always a date night. Nate could be out of town Monday to Friday but regardless of where he was in the country all week, he made sure he was home by Saturday morning. With the primaries trudging on and becoming more dependent on media buys and debates and less dependent on the retail end of politics, Nate was spending less time with the Bartlet people and more time around the house in Virginia. Mac was noticing the difference in Billy's behavior with Nate home more.

She was also noticing a difference in how much more wedding stuff was being accomplished. What she hadn't anticipated in that case was how much help the General would be when called upon. She shouldn't have been shocked. The man had been on the planning staff for major offensives in a few wars. It was also kind of nice to be able to give orders to a former Commandant and watch him carry them out. Nate's parents had been wonderful about everything. They were upset that their son had bought the house without their help, so they offered to pay for the wedding. After about twenty minutes of Nate and General Jack getting red-faced arguing back and forth about it, the son eventually relented.

On this particular date night, Billy made sure that the adults were out of the house before calling Kelly Graham over for a little weekend "studying". But somewhere between their AP US Government unit on the Church Committee and watching _All the President's Men_ on the TV in his room, a few (not all) pieces of clothing had hit the floor and the two of them had fallen asleep strewn across his bed. The sound of the big front door slamming upstairs jolted Billy awake. It was midnight, an hour after the house was supposed to be empty. His girlfriend was lying on his bed with her top off and now his Aunt and Uncle were home.

"Kelly, you've gotta get up!" Billy's eyes were about ready to jump out of his skull. "They're home."

"Oh God!" Kelly's reaction was similar to Billy's. She scrambled around looking for her shirt. Billy stuck his head out the door to try and hear his Uncle come down the stairs to check on him. "What are we going to do?"

Billy stopped and thought. "The window!" He bounded across the room and flung open his bedroom window. "Sometimes it rocks to have the basement bedroom."

"You can't be serious." Kelly rolled her eyes.

"You got a better idea? Just hang out in the backyard for a few minutes, when I'm done dealing with my uncle, I'll come out and walk you home." He tossed her a sly grin. She relented and he lifted her up through the window, closing it behind her. He let out a hard exhale and tried to pretend like nothing was going on. There was a knock on his bedroom door and Billy shuffled across the carpet to open it.

"How ya doin', Champ?" Nate grinned at his nephew. "Studying go alright?"

"Great." Billy nodded enthusiastically.

"Mac and I just wanted to tell you how proud we were of your latest progress report from your teachers. You're up to a 3.8 GPA." Nate folded his arms in front of his chest.

"And I made the lacrosse team." Billy smiled.

"Excellent." Nate nodded slowly, trying to read his nephew's expression. "Your Aunt and I have agreed that you deserve a little something. So, we're extending your curfew by a half hour."

"How about forty-five minutes?" Billy tried.

"Non-negotiable." Nate joshed with him. "But you keep it up and we'll talk."

"Thanks, Uncle Nate." Billy felt bad for a couple seconds. His Uncle and Aunt were great with him. He just kept telling himself that all teenagers did stuff like this and even though that didn't make it okay, it was kind of expected. "Hey, Uncle Nate, Illinois is this week, right?"

"Tuesday." Nate nodded. "What's up, Champ?"

"I was just wondering if I could maybe go to the DC for Bartlet party with you." Billy shrugged. Nate stopped for a second. He was trying to understand why the teenager would show any interest in going to a party for politicos when his interest in his Uncle's job had been tangential at best to this point. There had to be something else going on.

"Sorry, pal, school night." Nate chuckled. "Goodnight."

Billy nodded and closed the door behind his uncle. He'd escaped. He bounded across the room and hoisted himself up through the ground floor window.

Nate made his way up the stairs from the basement to the main floor. "How is he?" Mac was standing at the bottom of the stairs that led up to their bedroom.

"He had a girl over tonight." Nate smiled.

"He told you that?" Mac was curious.

"Didn't have to." Nate tapped his nose knowingly. "Either there was a girl here or he's having his own set of gender issues." Mac laughed and the two of them worked their way upstairs. Their dates were usually something pretty simple, usually dinner followed by something simple like a movie or a moonlit walk along the Potomac. Mac undressed in their bedroom while Nate disappeared into the en suite for a few seconds. Mac flipped on the television and there was some news program doing a soft news story. Mac glanced up to see a backdrop photo of her and Nate at the State Dinner the previous month.

"Nate?" Mac called and she watched as he walked out of the bathroom. She pointed at the TV and Nate redirected his focus.

_"Sarah MacKenzie, the fiancée of Senator Nathan Ross of Virginia a short list candidate for the Democratic nomination for Vice President, is a recovering alcoholic. Documents obtained by Fox News have learned that when she was seventeen, Miss MacKenzie abused alcohol and married one Christopher Ragle, now deceased…" _Nate couldn't take any more and flipped off the television.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry." Nate's shoulder slumped.

"We both knew this could happen." Mac sat down on the edge of the bed. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Tomorrow morning I'm going to have Sam call CJ and find out how the Bartlet campaign wants to deal with this. I'm sure the fact that this is coming out is totally coincidental, three days before the Illinois Primary. I'm pretty sure Bruno's going to have something to say." Nate hung his head. "Mac, if you want to sit in on the meetings tomorrow, I understand. You've kind of been pulled into this now."

"I'm not sure what to think about this. I mean we talked about it happening. So, I'm not sure I'm as angry as I would be." Mac gave a rueful chuckle. "I'm not sure what it says about our society that merely appearing out in public with my fiancé means I've got to prepare to have the media appeal to the lowest common denominator when picking through my personal life." She reached for his hand. "And how do you feel?"

"I'm angry. Mostly at them for putting you through this." He paused. "But maybe a little at myself for putting the two of us in the spotlight knowing this was the likely outcome."

"This wasn't your fault." Mac tried to reassure him.

"Oh, I know that. I just didn't help matters is all." Nate answered.

"Your meetings are going to have to be quick tomorrow. We're going out to your parents' house for a wedding planning session." Mac reminded him.

"I'll have Bruno and Sam come out here tomorrow morning, we'll do a conference call with CJ in my office at the back of the house. I think you should be there, Mac." He looked deep into her doe brown eyes. This was a line they didn't cross usually. Their work worlds were separate and traversed only by Sam who functioned in both but in different capacities. Mac nodded.

"I'll go tomorrow." She lightly brushed his cheek with her hand. "But Nathan, I'm not going to sit there like some porcelain doll. If I'm going, Sam and Bruno are going to hear my opinions."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He kissed the top of her head and they crawled under the covers.

The next morning passed in a kind of unspoken understanding prior to Sam and Bruno's arrival at the house. Nate had a little office at the back of the house. It had been a sunroom before but now it was just a place where the computer, books and tens of thousands of papers seemed to be kept. Nate sat in his desk chair, cupping his coffee in both hands. This morning's copy of the _Wall Street Journal_ had done its own airing of Mac's dirty laundry, focusing on her affair with Farrow and Court Martial for the murder of Christopher Ragle.

Mac was taking it with a surprising amount of calm, considering the circumstances. He made every attempt to comfort her while they made breakfast. Now they sat in the tense silence of the office as Bruno and Sam made their way to the door off the back of the house that led into the office. "Sarah, I'm so sorry." Sam greeted Mac first as he stepped into the office. "We had no idea this was coming."

"It wasn't your fault, Sam." Mac smiled quickly before returning to her coffee. Sam took a seat on the couch under the window.

Bruno was in the door a few minutes later. "Senator." The campaign consultant gave a quick nod to his boss. "Colonel." Bruno tried to remain formal. Bruno didn't take a seat but paced the floor. "Do we have CJ on the phone?" Bruno pointed at the phone on Nate's desk.

"We do." CJ's voice echoed through the speaker. "And I'm sorry too, Mac."

"Thanks, CJ." Mac shouted hoping CJ heard her. "CJ, how do we deal with this?"

"Well, first, I think we need to establish whether what was printed and said is true." Sam jumped in. "Mac, I don't think any of us here need the details but we do need to know…"

"Sam…" Nate's voiced went up a decibel or two as a warning.

"The broad strokes are, Sam." Mac nodded.

"Well, one option is that we nitpick and point out every detail they got wrong, every bullshit insinuation that's been made and destroy their credibility." Sam offered.

"It won't work." CJ's voice answered.

"CJ's right." Bruno grumbled.

"Why not?" Mac jumped in.

"Because we're talking about Fox News, for whom credibility isn't important and the Wall Street Journal for whom it would take more than just one bad story to destroy its credibility." CJ explained. "We need a different plan of attack."

"I think we have the two of you do a sit-down interview, preferably a non-political show like The View or Oprah." Bruno suggested.

"Doing Oprah might kill him." Sam stepped in.

"Might kill both of us." Mac shook her head.

"Due respect to the two of you, but you've spent the last few months pretending like you deserve to be treated differently than any other political couple in the history of this city. We made the mistake of doing just that. But fun time is over. We should have been out front on this weeks ago, but we're playing defense now." Bruno turned to his boss. "Sir, you've been trying to keep a political life and a personal life separate. But you created a vacuum, you deprived the public of knowledge from a person in a public area and the media did what it will always do in this circumstance, it filled the void with whatever it could find. I understand you're protective of your privacy, Mac, but you can't hide from the camera anymore."

"No." Nate stated simply. "Find another way."

"Senator, treating you two like some kind of non-public political couple simply no longer exists as an option for us. We have to frame this issue before it gets out of control and buries our campaign, their campaign and the political futures of every person in this room." Bruno countered.

"Okay, that's it." Nate slapped the arms of his chair with his open palms. There was a flash of rage behind Nate's eyes as he rose up out of the chair. Mac got up and put her hands on his arms to settle him down a bit.

"Thank you, everyone." Mac forced a bit of politeness. "We'll talk about it. But we really have to get going; we're late for a family gathering." The first sound that could be heard was CJ hanging up on the speaker phone. The next sounds were those of Sam and Bruno scurrying out of the house. Mac waited for the screen door to swing closed before speaking again. "You have to calm down. We're going to your parents' this afternoon and I need you here with me, okay?" She lifted a hand up to his cheek.

She felt his nerves settle. Nate had this way. That tightly coiled and controlled Marine veneer didn't crack often, but there were some buttons you could hit and just start him off the cliff. Attacking her was one of those buttons. He turned into a steam engine, he'd just overheat. It was strange. Mac always figured that she should have been more cautious of this side than she actually was. It was so rare, and so easily contained that for her, it was to be analyzed and defused.

She kept reminding herself that for all they knew of each other, it could take a long time to ever fully know a person. That for most of the time they spent together she saw the diplomat, the politician and the academic. She saw a person who was a natural conciliator, someone with considerable talent for compromise who loved her and valued her opinions and her intelligence on par with his own. It was her partner who came home to her every night.

But she knew that there was another side there. There was someone else who went out into the world to face the cameras. There was a Marine in there. There was pride and ego, arrogance and power. She spent her days dealing with Lions. She dealt with Generals, Admirals, Colonels and Captains who had power over their little jungles. But because they'd done such a good job of keeping Nathan's job out of their home, she sometimes forgot that the world beyond their walls knew him as one of those Lions that even those Generals and Admirals were loath to tempt his wrath.

"Tell me what's going on." She whispered gently. He shook his head.

"What were you thinking, just then?" He tried to distract from her question.

"I was thinking about Lions." Mac smiled coyly.

"The Kings of the Jungle?" Nate laughed. "My younger nephews love the Lion King. Is that what brought it to mind?"

"Not exactly." Mac shook her head.

"It was because I lost my temper?" Nate laughed a little to himself. "The Lion roars to scare off intruders and protect that which he holds dear. On the rare occasion that I'm given to roaring, I have to make sure that it is heard and long remembered."

"You're never a slave to your temper, Nathan." She let a hand glide lightly over his cheek. "I just don't want to see you be a victim of it either." His mood had lightened. The contrast began to swirl in Mac's mind. In a scant few minutes, she had proved able to do alter his mood and reach him in a way none of his staffers, or even Sam were able. She was reminded of something that Abbey Bartlet told her. Spouses wield power because they know the person, staffers know the position.

He thought for a second. "I had a dream last night." He smiled. "A dream where I cast off all this nonsense. I became a Professor at the Walsh School at Georgetown or maybe at the Naval War College. Some place where I wasn't running myself ragged every day and I could just come home at night and be me."

Mac hesitated. "I want one thing understood." Her eyes avoided his gaze. "Don't do this to protect me; don't do this because you think it's something I want." She stopped. "I realize how self-centered this might sound but we've talked about this in the past."

"Mac, I…"

"No, you need to hear this." She nudged him back into his chair, crouching down and taking his hands. "You're in turmoil at all times. I don't know why. But you always seem torn between ambition and occupation. You don't relax, you don't calm down. You're out to prove something at all times. You're out to prove something to me, or to your father, or to the country or to somebody else. You want to be all things to all people at all times and I'm telling you as the person in your life who needs you in order to get out of bed in the morning to stop."

There was a silence that hung between them. Nate wasn't sure how to react or exactly what to react to. Mac was ready to keep going. "I'm not sure if I've always meant it when I've said it to you in the past, but I mean it now. Do what will make you happy and trust that I'll support it. If you want to be Vice President, be Vice President and if you want to be a Senator, be a Senator. But if you're tired of it and you want to go teach, I will buy you half-moon spectacles and a tweed blazer if it'll make you happy." She passed a hand through his hair. "But all I need from you, is you. I don't need anything else from you and I don't want anything else from you."

He stared into her eyes totally speechless for a moment. She brought her hands down to his knees and tapped her palms on his knee caps. "Let's go see your family."

2014 ZULU

ROSS FAMILY HOME

LEESBURG, VIRGINIA

Within an hour of walking through the front door, the wedding plans were everywhere. The coffee table in the living room was covered. The dining room table was covered. The kitchen table was covered. The invitations were going out tomorrow, every name on the guest list had to be checked, rechecked and haggled over.

The final list, with a few new names inked off, was quickly rushed over to the shop before they closed on Sunday afternoon. The girls were trying to narrow down the selection for the bridesmaids gowns. Nate, AJ and the General were going over the aptly nicknamed "battle plans" for the seating arrangement. They were being very careful taking past histories into account, trying to juggle the volatile cocktail of politicians, diplomats and military personnel in a way that wouldn't cause the ballroom at the Hay-Adams to explode. And this was only the first draft. As the RSVPs started to roll in, there would be revisions. But since AJ had gone as far as either Mac or here future mother-in-law were comfortable when it came to helping narrow down the food selection for the wedding and there were only so many tuxedos a man could look at before attempting to tunnel out of the house, the three of them simply agreed to look busy and quietly talk about Spring Training in baseball

The General had joked that the planning of a wedding was a metaphor for marriage itself. There were some tasks where you were given free reign, but a lot of the time your task was handed to you with the belief that it would be done ten minutes later. Nate was going out of his mind. He could only imagine how nervous he'd be on the day they were actually talking about. He couldn't imagine eating, or drinking on that day. This probably meant that he'd be kept on his feet by adrenaline alone.

Mac got on surprisingly well with his family. Well, it wasn't really surprising any more. His mother never really seemed to warm to people in the past. He thought that was the psychiatrist in her. She listened and analyzed people. His girlfriends, even his oft-forgotten ex-wife always seemed to be under the eternal Jungian microscope. But Mac was different. He never asked his mother what made her different. It wasn't the kind of conversation they had.

A knock came to the door and Nate shuffled across the carpet to answer it. He opened the door to see Jed Bartlet standing there. The Junior Senator from Virginia looked confused to find his friend and fellow politician standing on the stoop outside his parents' house. "Sarah called me." The older man said as though anticipating the confusion.

"Of course she did." Nate stepped out of the door.

"CJ called me, too." Jed and Nate walked down the walkway in front of the Ross house. "She said you snapped at that little conference this morning."

Nate exhaled hard. "I have days, Jed; days when I know I'm not cut out for this. I have so much on my mind at all times, that it seems I never get a moment's peace. You tell yourself that you can just work harder and the things you want will come. I can be miserable at work and come home and she just…she takes it away. But it dragged her in and I can't stand that."

Nate leaned up against the Governor's car waiting at the curb. Jed smiled to himself and shook his head. "There was a time, when I was running for re-election to Congress. My opponent attacked a dress Abbey wore to a Washington reception for some foreign leader as being 'immodest and a poor role model for young girls'. This was my wife, a doctor, a mother; I'd be hard pressed to think of a better role model."

"What did you do?" Nate asked in a tone he was sure he'd last used in discussion with one of his professors at Princeton.

"I can tell you what I wanted to do." Jed explained. "I wanted to get in a car, drive over to his campaign headquarters and knock his teeth down his throat. But just as I was getting ready to leave the house, I get a call from Leo. He told me 'This is the person you love, you raise them above this kind of pettiness, and you don't lower yourself in their name in order to beat it'. And he was right them and I'm going to be right now when I give you the same advice."

"I've got to do something." Nate cracked his knuckles. "It just doesn't feel right, you know? They're taking shots at her, she didn't ask for it. She isn't running for anything. But she's getting dragged into this political mess because I'm in it. The more I stand back here and do nothing, the more I feel like a coward, the more I'm sure I look like a coward."

"You don't doubt that you love her. Standing here, I don't doubt you love her. Most importantly, she doesn't doubt you love her. Your balancing act is going to be to convince the rest of the world without coming across as angry and defensive." Jed stopped. "I can't tell you what the right thing is to do here. I imagine Sam, Bruno and CJ know best because this is what they do for a living. All I can tell you is that if you don't believe in it, you'll never forgive yourself. You'll always think you could have done more."

Nate nodded slowly.

"Let me tell you something, my friend. It's tough for me to be around you sometimes. There's so much potential in you. But you have some frustration looking for a way out. I know it because I've been there. You work your ass off to get through the door at the end of the hallway only to find there's another hallway. You want to know when you'll be good enough and Mac has become a part of that. You've fallen in love with this woman…you find this person and you're just totally enraptured. There's nobody else in the world; the rest of the world might as well not even exist. And then someone comes in, unbidden, and tells you she's not good enough. And you take that opinion to heart because in your mind, this she's too good for you. So, you want to prove that she is. I'm telling you; too many good men spend their lives tilting at the windmill. You can waste the best years of your life doing it. So, if you want to make your stand, do it once, do it calmly and then never talk about it ever again."

1421 ZULU

ABC STUDIOS

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Mac straightened Nate's tie backstage in the greenroom. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" He let out a chuckle. "I'm nervous. A few hundred appearances on television; on CSPAN, on CNN, on the networks but this one makes me nervous. How are you feeling?"

"I hate being on television." Mac let out a hard breath. "But this one needs to be done. Bruno's right. We can't try and live off camera if you're going to live your dream. If this is your dream, then I'm with you. And if the price is twelve minutes on television, then sweetheart, human beings much weaker than I have paid much higher prices." The producer came back stage and let them know that the show was coming back from commercial.

The two of them stood in the wings waiting for their introduction. She reached for his big paw, gently intertwining her fingers with his. Then they heard the introduction start.

"He's the junior Senator from Virginia, a former Secretary of State whose Desert Storm memoir _Visions in a Sandstorm_ has spent 34 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. She's a Marine Corps attorney for the Judge Advocate General corps who's been featured on Trial TV. Together they're Washington's hottest couple, please welcome Senator Nathan Ross and Sarah MacKenzie." There was a quick round of applause from the audience as Mac and Nate strode across the soundstage to the couch.

The two of them took a seat among the hosts, still clinging tightly to each other's hand. "Senator, it's a pleasure to have you on the show."

"It's a pleasure to be here." Nate forced himself to say.

"So, I finished reading your book last night." Another host cut in. "Were those your actual journal entries from Desert Storm?"

"Interspersed with a couple of letters written home, yes." Nate added. "Totally unaltered and I made sure that my editor left them that way."

"For me, what makes this book so poignant is that is has a natural climax when the reader finds out that you actually were forced to witness your older brother nearly die in combat over the airport in Kuwait City and that he, in fact, was paralyzed in that firefight." Another of the female hosts stated. Nate leaned forward and dug his elbows into his knees.

"That one event defined a lot of my life. You have to remember, I was twenty-five when that happened. Still comparatively old, given the average age of some of the kids we have in combat today, but I couldn't close my eyes without reliving it for a long time. Thankfully, I've got a very strong family unit around me and you don't really realize how valuable that support structure is until you need it." Nate nodded slowly and ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.

"Speaking of that family unit, there's a wedding in the near future for the two of you, right, Sarah?" Another female host jumped in.

"There is, it's June 16th." Mac nodded. "Every day I look at the calendar and I can't believe how quickly it's coming. It always seems like there's more to do."

"You prefer to be called Mac, don't you?" The first host asked.

"Yes, I do." Mac said cautiously.

"Well, Mac, what can you tell the public about Nate Ross that we might not already know?" The host asked and Mac smiled brightly.

"Probably quite a bit." Mac quipped lightly and emitted a chuckle while Nate blushed a bright red. She reached out and put her hand on his thigh. "I could tell you that he's an above average grease monkey. I could tell you that he whistles _Born to Run_ on the way out the door in the morning." This latest admission earned Mac a small round of cheering from the audience. "But what you might not know is that he's incredibly modest about himself. When we met, I had probably more reason than most women to distrust the men of the world. But he's given me hope, even if it's only in him."

There was a little reverential silence for a few seconds as Nate smiled genuinely at his fiancée. It was in moments like this that he had serious trouble understanding why anyone would ever want to say a negative word about her. The silence was quickly interrupted by another voice. "So, there have been all these reports in the media about your life when you were younger and I was just wondering how you're both dealing with this increased media scrutiny?"

"There's nothing wrong with scrutinizing me." Nate stepped in. "I'm asking for people's votes, I'm their representative, they have every right to scrutinize me, criticize me and give me their opinions. The free exchange of ideas is essential to who we are as Americans. But Sarah isn't a politician; she's a Marine and as her superiors will attest, a pretty damn good one. So, I find it hypocritical when some blow-dried talking head gets on camera and touts his service to this country when he's never put on a uniform and she puts one on every day of her life. I find it sexist that certain people will hold out her father or her ex-husband and call her character into question when they refuse to do the same for actual candidates in this political race, who by no coincidence are male. And I find it offensive that a group of people so willing to flaunt their Christianity and yet are so unwilling to practice any measure of forgiveness by throwing someone's past in their face. So, if the scrutiny falls on me, that's fine, I'll take every punch. But unless they've served the Marine Corps the way she has, they can't question her patriotism, her commitment or her character. Sarah is quite simply, beyond reproach."

The only sound heard in the studio for the next two minutes straight, was the thunder of applause.


End file.
